A Father's Sins
by katlizhan
Summary: With her home fallen to ashes and no one left to turn to, Elspeth Addair and her loyal kitsune travel with the Knights of Seiros to Garreg Mach, in the hopes of finding her long-lost father... On a path wrought with secrets and betrayals, tensions will rise and loyalties tested. In a far-flung corner of Fódlan, an ancient beast awakens from slumber.
1. Lost to Flames

**Chapter 1**

**_Lost to Flames_**

The mud was cold, splashing up her legs with each bounding step. Her heart pounded to the beat of her strides. The direction she was headed didn't matter- all she knew was that she had to run. Keep moving. Distant screams tore at her heart, at her conscience, but she knew that it was no use turning back. She couldn't try to save them now. It was either a death in vain trying to be a hero, or a chance at life. And in the face of death, Elspeth had chosen herself. _You left them to die_, the voice in her head hissed over and over, but what could she have done?

They had come in the night. Bandits. At least, that's what she believed them to be. In truth, there was not enough time to process the invaders' identity. The screaming came first- frightened, desperate screams. The dying screams of men, of wailing children. And then came the fire. House by house, the flames spread like wildfire, consuming anything in its path... children included. That was what had shaken her the most. Worse than the fire, however, was the bandits that awaited those who managed to escape their homes, armed with axes and spears and swords. They cut down whoever they saw- with no hesitation. All she could do was try to flee, as far away from the chaos as she could get.

A piercing pain spread through her abdomen, forcing her sprint to an end. Her knees buckled from beneath her and she collapsed to the sodden ground, mud splashing in her face. She sobbed, the image of fire and burning bodies seared into her mind. Over and over, she saw the bodies fall to the floor, saw a man laughing as he drove his sword into the heart of a pleading woman. An emptiness crept over her, until all she could do was stare into the darkness. She didn't remember when the crying stopped. A whimper nearby broke her reverie, and she turned her head to see a scrawny figure peering down at her with bright eyes. Aethel. Profound relief replaced the emptiness, accompanied by a surge of guilt. He must have followed her when she fled the town. The realisation that she had left him behind to perish in the chaos caused the tears to fall once more.

"I'm... I'm so _sorry_, boy. Stupid, _stupid_!" she sobbed into his fur, grasping clumps of it between her fingers. "How can you still want to follow me when I left you to _die_?"

The kitsune only nudged his wet nose against her cheek.

"C'mon, boy. We gotta find somewhere to hide," she told him.

Like shadows they slipped through the dense trees, feet squelching beneath them. Aethel led the way, sniffing each bramble and rock for the scent of danger. His four tails swished with each sway of his hips. Besides their footsteps, the wood was silent; the bloodshed long since ceased. The scent of heavy smoke still clung to her nostrils. For now, all they could do was find somewhere to rest until daylight, and then... then what? Her village was in cinders- everyone she ever knew was gone. The reality sunk deep into her bones. She was alone. _No, _she told herself. _You're not alone- Aethel is here_. The thought made her smile despite it all.

After trudging through the woods for around a quarter of an hour, the two came across a wide oak with a hollow alcove in the centre. Elspeth silently thanked the Goddess and crawled into the tree. It was a tight fit, but it would do. Aethel curled up beside her, ears on alert. Sleep did not come easily, but come it did. She dreamt of burning men, of children being butchered where they stood. Fire roared in her ears, its thick smoke invading her throat, her nose. Choking her. In her dream she did not flee. Instead, she tried desperately to save her people, to protect them and lead them to safety. Sword in hand, she clashed with the invaders; men with faces like beasts- their eyes burning like the flames around them. They swarmed around her, the movements of their legs broken and disjointed. Laughter broke through them, so loud that it felt as if it were in her head. One stepped forward, his blade an extension of his arm and made of bone- the flesh torn and stretched along the jagged edge. He raised his bone blade, and the laughter stopped.

"Tried to run away, did you?" His voice was distorted, and his lips did not move. She screamed as the sword plunged into her chest.

She awoke still screaming, sweat dripping from her temples. Aethel whimpered above her. _It was only a dream, it was only a dream..._ she repeated in an attempt to calm her mind. Through the gaps between the twisting branches, stretches of light shone down and brightened the forest. Dawn. She rubbed at Aethel's ear and crawled out from their hideaway, stretching her arms to relieve the cramp. From head to toe she was caked in mud and soot, and her once red hair looked black with it. Her kitsune's fur shared a similar fate. A stream ran through the wood a few metres from the hollow oak, its glistening waters trickling over the curves of stones and twigs. Aethel lapped at it thirstily, making Elspeth aware of her own dry throat. Kneeling beside him, she cupped handfuls of water into her muddied hands and gulped them down.

"You need a bath, boy. Look at ye!" she exclaimed. He tilted his head and gave her a look as if to say, '_Have you seen yourself__?'_

Elspeth huffed. "Yeah, yeah, alright laddie. We'll _both_ get a bath, eh? Then I'll go hunt us some grub. How bouts it?"

Aethel wagged his tails in agreement. He padded into the stream and rolled onto his back, when a twig snapped behind them. Aethel jolted to his feet and pulled his lips into a snarl. Elspeth darted her eyes to find a quick escape, but the only hiding place was the tree they had slept in- in the direction of the sound. She lay flat in the stream, the cold water soaking through her rags and onto her skin. A shiver ran through her, and she waited with baited breath for any sign of movement.

"_Down, boy!"_ she hissed, but Aethel would not listen.

Another snap.

And then a man garbed in pure white armour tripped into view, axe in hand. A large pauldron with golden spikes was fitted onto his left shoulder. His brunette hair was pushed back, and his whiskers were slick with sweat. Elspeth watched as he stumbled along, staying perfectly still despite the stones jabbing into her flesh. The man's gaze shifted toward the stream.

He froze on the spot.

Aethel leapt into action and charged toward him, teeth bared to tear at flesh. The man lifted his axe ready to strike, sunlight reflecting off the steel. Panic kicked in- she had to do something, or Aethel would be killed. She bounced to her feet and screamed; whether it was his name, or No, she wasn't sure- only that whatever it was had caused the kitsune to skid to a halt and retreat. A sigh escaped her.

"Goodness me, your dog just about scared the daylights out of me!" he bellowed. "Jeralt, I found one!" he said in an equally loud voice. "Captain? _CAPTAIN!_ By the Goddess, where did that man get off to?"

Elspeth studied him with curiosity. He was no bandit, that she was certain of. "He's not a _dog_, he's a kitsune," she corrected. "We don't want trouble, so we'll just be moving out of yer way." With a click of her tongue Aethel heeled. A swarm of soldiers broke through the bushes before they could begin their escape.

"There you are, Alois. Don't go running off like that, you hear me?" a rugged man said. He looked to be in his forties; blond tufts of hair covered his chin and along his jaw, and he wore his hair in a tight, thin braid. His stern gaze softened when it found Elspeth. "Good grief," he muttered. "You escaped from Delaryn, right? I'm sorry about what happened."

Elspeth feigned ignorance. "What's it tae you? Me and 'ol Aethel here are minding our own business." Even if they weren't the ones who attacked her village, the risk was too great to trust anybody. It was how she had gotten through most of her life, following her mother's words ever since she had died the previous year: don't get too close, keep moving. Besides, she was content to a life of just her and Aethel. He was more loyal than any person could be, and had looked out for her since she was a babe.

The rugged man sighed. "You're scared, I understand. My name is Jeralt, and this here is-"

"Alois Rangeld! Knight of Seiros at your service!" the other boomed. _Knight of Seiros_... She wracked her brain. Seiros was a Saint, that much she knew, but Elspeth knew little of Saints or... much of anything, really. However, if they were in service of the Goddess, at least they wouldn't try to kill her. She hoped.

"Have you been there?" she heard herself say. "To Delaryn? Is anyone... is anyone still alive?" Her voice was a mere whisper.

Jeralt nodded solemnly. "There were a few, but they're wounded. They might not make it to tomorrow. We're taking them back to the monastery. You should come, too."

A lump formed in her throat, but no tears came. At least there was hope, if only for a few of them. It took a while for his offer to register in her mind. "That's good... where was that ye were taking them?"

"Garreg Mach. It's not too far from here, couple of miles at most. We can take you there, if you like. It's not safe here, and..." He sighed. "There's no village for you to go back to."

Elspeth nodded and lowered herself into a crouch beside her kitsune. She stroked his matted fur, still damp from the stream. "What do ye think, boy? Shall we go with these nice knights to somewhere warm? I bet they have tons 'a meat," she whispered. Aethel licked his chops at that. It was settled, then.

"I'll come, on one condition: Aethel comes with me," she said firmly.

"Of course," Jeralt replied, to her surprise.

Alois went pale. "C-_Captain!_ You can't seriously suggest letting that beast near the students! That thing tried to kill me!" he complained.

Jeralt laughed. "If he gets hungry on the way back, he can eat Alois. Come on." He turned on his heel and headed back the way they came, soldiers following in a tight formation.

They did not talk much on their way back through the forest, but Elspeth was glad of it. She was not well accustomed to social interaction. Alois spoke most often, and sang unfamiliar folk tunes in a broad and off-key voice. Jeralt had told him more once to pipe down, but the knight only sang even louder. It seemed he did not often listen to the commands of his Captain. His cheerful, carefree nature helped to lighten Elspeth's spirits, however, and she found herself wishing she knew the words so that she could join in. Instead, she began to sing her own song- one that her mother had taught her long ago. Quietly at first, until she found the courage inside herself to sing freely.

"_Well met, well met, my own true love,__well met, well met cried he_," she began.

Jeralt groaned. "Not you, too?" he said as she sang.

Alois seemed to recognise the words and joined in with a hearty laugh.

"_I've just returned from the salt, salt sea_

_All for the love of thee"_

_"I could have married the King's daughter, dear_

_She would have__ married me_

_But I have forsaken her crowns of gold_

_All for the love of thee..._"

Elspeth sang in solemn remembrance for her mother, not for joy as Alois did. To her mother, the song was hope that one day her love would return to her. The father Elspeth never knew, and had accepted long ago that she perhaps would never know. The loss of her village brought back the grief from her mother's final days, the fear of being alone in a world that did not care for common folk. As a young girl, the risk to her safety was even greater. She was truly blessed to have Aethel by her side.

On the horizon, a structure which Elspeth presumed to be Garreg Mach came into view. It was as much a fortress as it was an academy, set within a mountain with high stone walls. From this distance, however, it was hard to distinguish the true scale of it. During their walk through the forest, Jeralt had told her that it was built within a town where the students enjoyed visiting on market days. Pets were welcome, he'd said, though he wasn't sure how the Archbishop would react to a kitsune. Most of the pets students brought with them were small breeds of dogs and cats, not wild beasts.

"Lady Rhea takes in all kinds of people all the time, so don't worry. As long as you respect her and the Knights, I'm sure she'd be more than happy to offer you a roof over your head." Jeralt's tone was one of reassurance. "Her advisor may object to it, as he does most things, but leave him to me." He smiled then. "My child and I will take care of you. Everything will be alright."

His words did bring Elspeth some comfort, but she did not voice that she was not planning on staying. Now that she had no home, no friends nor family left to speak of, there was only one thing that she could think to do; to find the father that had helped spark her existence and had left without a word.

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**_A/N_** **_(edit)~ Editing for the benefit of newer readers._**

**_This story will focus completely on White Clouds, from Chapter 3(game) through to the time-skip. I predict there being at least 50 chapters in this story, so the plot may develop a little slowly. A sequel containing the events post-skip is being planned, but that's a long way off._**

**_AFS will heavily focus on both Elspeth's family past, and the rise of Edelgard. A few game events will be altered, some paralogues will be included, but I can't say much else because spoilers lol._**

**_I am hoping to upload one chapter every Sunday/Monday, but of course there is a life outside of Fanfic that may interfere with the schedule, so apologies if there are some off-weeks. Thank you for reading the first chapter and I hope it interests you enough to continue!_**

**_P.s. The_****_ song Elspeth sings at the end is part of 'The House Carpenter' (specifically the Eleanor Tomlinson version)_**


	2. Audience with the Archbishop

**Chapter 2**

**_Audience with the Archbishop_**

The Captain's quarters were small but cosy. Loose documents were scattered over the desk, and a half-melted candle stood leaning at the centre. Whether the pages were of any importance, Elspeth could not tell- she could not read. A bookshelf lined the far wall, stacked with books that looked both ancient and new, with no order to them that she could tell. The seating area in the centre of the quarters had been pushed aside to make room for a metal tub filled with scalding water. Since the infirmary was in use- by the few survivors of the previous night- Jeralt had ordered for her to be bathed and dressed in his quarters before her meeting with the Archbishop, Lady Rhea. No one was to disturb her. As she waited for the water to cool, Aethel paced the room and whined with unrest. A loin of steak had been cut up for him and placed in a small bowl, and another filled with fresh water, but he touched neither. He wanted to go home. _Our home is gone, boy,_ she thought. With a sigh Elspeth dipped a finger into the tub once more. This time, it was just right.

She peeled the muddied, damp clothes from her skin and placed them in a neat pile on the floor, next to a suit of armour. A shiver ran over her bare skin, but soon disappeared as she sank into the soothing waters and closed her eyes, the rising steam caressing her weary face. In her mind's eye she saw home; not of Delaryn, but of the home she had shared with her mother. The name of their village was lost to her, though it did not matter. It was home, and she was free. She saw herself run through the meadow alongside Aethel, collecting wildflowers to bring home for her mother, as she so often used to. The wind was gusty, blowing her fiery mane across her face. Children played in the meadow, laughing and squealing with glee with their games of knights and nobles, slashing at each other with sticks and twigs. The surroundings blurred until she found herself sat in her old cottage. A woman, hair as red as her own, hummed as she sewed a patch onto a ragged jumper. Mother. On the table she sat at, Elspeth noticed a vase containing the flowers she had gathered just moments before. Or had it been hours..? Her mother laughed, the sound melodic and warm as the fire within the hearth.

"Dreaming again, love?" she asked, voice airy and dream-like.

"I missed you, mam," Elspeth heard herself say, though her words confused her. _Mother is right here... Why do I miss her so?_

"I'm here, silly." Her mother laughed again, and set aside her sewing needle. "I'll always be right... here." She was stood above her now, hand resting over Elspeth's heart. Sweat began to drip from her brow and her nose, her skin fading pale. Elspeth didn't understand- she had been fine just a moment ago.

"Mother, what's happening?" she croaked. "Why are you so pale?"

She rushed to her mother's side, confined to a bed now, and felt the tears begin to swell in her eyes. None of it made any sense. Her mother was pale as the sheet that covered her, her cheeks hollow. Ragged breaths tore from her throat, and it was then that the sight became all too familiar. The White Reaper- named so because of the colour it turned its victims- had spread from a neighbouring village to the east, and preyed on the ones pure of heart. A curse from the Goddess.

"Come here, love." Her mother gasped, and placed her bony fingers over Elspeth's. "My brave, brave child. It's not long now... before the fever takes me," she coughed. "When I'm gone..."

"No! You'll be fine, mam. You're gonna make it, I know you will. You're strong. It'll be alright mam, you'll see," Elspeth pleaded.

Her mother tried to smile, but her muscles were too weak. "When I'm gone, promise me you will leave this place. I can't bear the thought of this curse taking you, too. Take Aethel- look after each other. And when you're far from here... keep moving. Don't turn back."

Elspeth began to protest, when there came a knock at the door.

"That'll be... your father..." Her mother breathed, as she drifted into death. _Father left us, mam_... she thought to herself.

The knock came again, louder. Elspeth broke from her dream, the abruptness of it causing her to jump and splash the water. Her cheeks were wet, but not from the bathwater. She'd been crying.

"Who is it?" she called out as she steadied her breathing. Aethel stalked closer to door, teeth bared into a snarl. A woman with brunette hair styled into a neat bob strode in, holding a pile of dull coloured clothing. Elspeth sank herself deeper beneath the water.

The woman's brows raised when their eyes met. "Oh, my. I didn't know you'd still be in here." She tutted and gave her a quick glance over. "Goodness, have you ever taken a bath before? You're _supposed_ to use the soap and cloth," she said, and pointed a dainty finger in the direction of the mentioned items. Elspeth blushed; she had forgotten about them.

"Well, I suppose you have plenty of other things on your mind right now," the woman said apologetically. "I'm Manuela, a professor here at the academy. I'm also the physician here, and I- Ah, I think that's quite enough about me. Here, I'll get the soap." Manuela sauntered over to grab the block of soap and flannel, and pulled a chair to sit beside the tub.

"I must'a fallen asleep..." Elspeth said as Manuela lathered the soap into her hair. It smelled of honey, the warm aroma making her feel sleepy once again. She yawned lightly, covering her mouth with dripping fingers.

Manuela hummed. "I can't say I blame you, after what you must've been through. Poor thing." She tapped a bare shoulder. "Sit up- Hm... Jeralt must have a jug here somewhere... Ah!"

Elspeth did as told, the now lukewarm water shifting as she moved. With the jug- which was actually a vase- Manuela scooped up water from the basin and rinsed out the soap and mud from Elspeth's hair. Aethel padded over to rest his head along the edge of the tub. Manuela tensed at his approach.

"It's alright. He won't hurt ye, honest. C'mere, boy." She scratched behind his ears, eliciting grunts from the kitsune.

"I've never seen a kitsune before. They're quite rare, aren't they?"

Elspeth shrugged. "Think so. He's the only one I've seen, too. Dunno where his family are. I was comin' on six when I found him. Sorry state he was in, too. All bony 'an stuff- was only a wee mite 'imself. Been with me ever since." She smiled, running her fingers along his snout, then looked to Manuela. "Go on, you can stroke him."

"He won't bite?" Manuela looked hesitant as she stretched out her fingers and brushed the tips over his whiskers. She breathed an uneasy laugh when his tongue flicked out to lick them. "My, isn't he a charmer," she said, the tension in her posture all but dissipated. "Well-" she stood, handing Elspeth the honeyed soap and washcloth, "-I'd best leave you to it. I have patients to watch over, after all. Be quick, mind- they're waiting for you in the audience chamber."

"Cap'n Jeralt'll be there?"

"Yes, he's there." A mischievous smile tugged at Manuela's red lips. "Why do you ask?"

"Jus'..." she paused to gather her thoughts, "he was nice to me, is all. I'll feel better, knowin' one face in a room full of strangers, you know? I'm not good at talkin' and the like."

Manuela nodded. "Good luck," she said, and left the room, white cloak flowing behind her. The two words left Elspeth with a sense of dread.

The audience chamber was as large as she imagined it to be. Stone columns lined each side, rising from the red and grey marble floor up to the decorative ceiling. At the far end were two sets of steps, leading to a stained glass window set behind a golden throne, upon which sat a mint-green haired woman. To her right stood a stern-faced man with a beard, and hair that was shaped around his face, a darker shade of green than the Archbishop's. To her left, a face that Elspeth recognised: Jeralt.

"Come closer, child," the Archbishop said, voice echoing along the stone walls. Around her head she wore a golden circlet which fanned out and upwards at the back, with navy blue tassels hanging from each side. It was decorated with stars, the same white as the two lillies she wore in her hair.

Elspeth ascended the first set of steps, wiping her sweaty palms on the hem of the rough cotton shirt they had provided. Aethel followed, and sat obediently against her leg. Lady Rhea observed her with a gentle expression, though her attention was focused on Aethel.

"This is the kitsune, then? Extraordinary. They do not often reveal themselves to humans." Rhea said, her voice soft-spoken and graceful. She laughed once. "It must be by will of the Goddess that he chose you to protect."

"It seems Captain Jeralt was right. The beast is well-trained, at least," the green haired man interjected. "However, a creature such as this is not born to be a pet. I implore you, Archbishop, to think of the students. What if it were to turn savage?"

Elspeth scoffed, fury rising in her veins. "He's no savage! He protects me, 'an I protect him. I bet you've done worse than 'e has!" It took every ounce of her self-control not to take a strike at him. _How dare he._

"I beg your pardon? I-"

"That is enough, Seteth," Rhea said, tone unchanging. "Kitsunes are no ordinary beast- they carry within them the power of the Goddess herself, as you well know. Their lifespans can reach hundreds of years. He will cause us no issue."

Seteth glowered. "Very well," he said through gritted teeth.

"Now, child. You must be wondering why you have been summoned here," Rhea said.

Elspeth nodded.

"Whilst you were waiting, Jeralt told us of his mission, and of you. We are all deeply remorseful about what happened to you, and of your village. We have been keeping watch on a group of bandits recently, and we believe them to be responsible for your tragedy. I am afraid I cannot disclose any more than that.

"Now, you have been brought here, to our esteemed Officers' Academy, in the hopes to give you a temporary home following your loss. That is, of course, your decision. You are free to decline, if that is your wish." Rhea folded her hands into her lap, patiently waiting for an answer.

Elspeth listed her options in her head, eyes downcast as she pondered. She looked to Jeralt. "So ye know who did it, then. You know who burned my village to the ground."

"Yes, we believe so," Jeralt said.

"Good," she said firmly. "You'll get 'em, won't you? You'll cut 'em down, like they cut us down."

"Justice will be served. Their retribution will be swift. You have our word," Seteth said.

Jeralt hopped down to the same level as Elspeth and placed a firm grip on her shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. We'll avenge them- and you. They won't cause any more suffering." He squeezed her shoulder, his age-worn features grim.

"I believe ye," Elspeth said with a smile. She turned her gaze to Rhea. "We'll stay, then. I can do work, if ye like- I don't wanna be a burden or nothin'." While Elspeth didn't particularly _want_ to work, the idea of not earning her keep was alien to her.

Rhea laughed softly. "Nonsense, child. You are our guest here, and will be provided for by the Church. Seteth," she addressed her advisor, "send for Flayn. She can show our guests to their room, and it would do that child well to make a friend."

Seteth did not appear too fond of the notion, but agreed nonetheless. He exited the chamber with poised swiftness, the navy blue cape at his back swaying with each step.

Jeralt laughed. "He's not that bad, you know. Just very untrusting of strangers... Hell, he has to be; that's his job." He raised a brow, aware of the Archbishop's presence, though she sat in silence. "Once you're settled, I'll introduce you to my son, Byleth. He just recently became a professor here, actually. I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet you." He spoke of his son with fondness, eyes crinkling at the mention of his name.

"Yes, the Professor is an exceptional young man. He has been a grand addition to the academy," Rhea added. She stood, crisp white dress flowing around her ankles. "I am afraid I must now attend to my duties. I trust the Captain will keep you company whilst you wait for Flayn to arrive." She descended the steps, graceful as a feather, and closed herself into another room to the right of them.

"What's in there?" Elspeth whispered to the captain.

"Advisors room," he replied. In response to Elspeth's blank expression, he added, "It's where Lady Rhea does her work and listens to Seteth's incessant droning. What did you think of her?"

Elspeth smiled at the image. "She must 'av a lot 'a patience. She seems nice... like how I'd imagine a princess to be, I think. Bit hard to tell what she's thinkin', mind. Felt like she was lookin' right into my soul," she said, though felt unsure as to whether she misspoke. "Sorry, I don't mean no offense to her ladyship," she added hurriedly.

Jeralt only looked amused. "Don't worry, kid. I won't tell her _ladyship_ a word, you can count on it." He chuckled.

The entrance doors groaned open, and from beyond them returned Seteth, accompanied by a young girl half his height, with hair a similar shade to the Archbishop's.

"There's Flayn, Seteth's sister," Jeralt said. He urged her forward with a gentle push. "Go on, kid. I'll check on you later, alright?"

Elspeth turned her head to whisper a farewell, then left the audience chamber behind her, Aethel ever at her heel.

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**_A/N- WHEEEE! This was a bit of a slower chapter, but I hope as the story unfolds that you begin to love Elspeth and her QTTTT kitsune as much as I do._**

**_In the next chapter, she and Flayn do a bit of bonding and maybe bump into some other characters. WHO KNOWS??? (I do) It's a bit of a slow burner but I promise it'll be worth it!_**

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**P.S. This chapter was released so soon because I already had it written before deciding to share the story here. I am writing Ch3 so it will take longer to release**** in future. Thanks**


	3. Blue Lions

**Chapter 3**

**_Blue Lions_**

"...And this is Saint Cethleann!" Flayn finished, concluding their tour of the monastery. "So, which was your favourite part?" She smiled sweetly, clasping her hands together.

Elspeth's brain felt as if it had caved in on itself. "My what?" It was a struggle to remember everything the vibrant young girl had told her; at some point, Elspeth was sure her ears had tuned her out.

Flayn giggled into her hand. "Your favourite part of the tour, of course!"

"Um..." Elspeth's brow furrowed. "The garden, I s'pose. Can we sit down? My legs are killin'"

"Oh. Forgive me- I must have gotten carried away. Here, why don't we sit and pray a while?" Flayn took her by the hand and led her to a pew. They sat facing a large stained glass window, the Crest of Seiros, as Flayn had pointed out, prominent at the top.

Elspeth fumbled with her hands, eyes downcast. "I don't know much 'bout prayin'. What do I say to her?" She felt a blush colour her cheeks- the girl must think her simple.

"Like this." Flayn clasped her hands and held them to her chest. Elspeth mirrored her. "And then you simply pray for anything you like! Start with: Dear Goddess, hear my prayer."

"Okay... Dear Goddess-"

Flayn giggled. "You do not have to say it out loud. Speak from your heart, and the Goddess will hear."

The notion was quite ridiculous, but Elspeth obliged nonetheless. She closed her eyes, blocking out the world around her. _Dear Goddess... I guess I'm prayin' for those folks from my village- the ones up in the infirmary. That they get better. And... for my ma, wherever she is. Tell her I'm thinkin' of her, if ye' can._ She frowned at her childish request. _I think that's all. Though, there is one last thing. My da... I pray that I find him._

Her eyes opened, a hand lingering to clasp the necklace she kept tucked beneath her tunic. A songbird carved from wood; a gift from her father to her mother, passed down after her death. Elspeth doubted the Goddess had listened- there must have been hundreds of people sending her their prayers. And yet, it gave her peace all the same. "I'm done, I think," she said.

"Wonderful!" Flayn beamed, but her smile was quickly replaced with a gasp. "Oh! I am afraid I must depart. My brother asked that I return before dinner. Ah, forgive me, but will you be quite alright on your own?"

Elspeth offered a faint smile and nodded. Her tour of the monastery had been quite thorough, and she remembered where her room was located, if nothing else. It was where Aethel was waiting for her, on the second floor within the servant's quarters. Flayn had told her that they would have allowed her use of one of the guest rooms, but they were reserved for noble guests. It was a small room, with a wooden cot pushed into the corner beside a time-worn shelf and a sturdy wardrobe. Simple, but enough. In fact, it was no different from her room in Delaryn, which was one of many in a cramped home shared with two other families. They were all dead now, Elspeth reflected, burned to ashes with the rest of it. Their youngest was just a babe- barely two months old. _Leira_, was her name. Elspeth only hoped that she had slept through the nightmare, and had died in relative peace.

A bell rang through the cathedral, chiming five times, signalling the end of the day as Flayn had told her it would. The girl had already left, and Elspeth found herself alone save for the Saint looking down upon her with open arms. If not for her growling stomach, she would have stayed a while longer to reflect on lost memories. Though the grief made the thought of food nauseating, she knew she would have to eat eventually. Wallowing would do no good. With a heavy sigh she made her way through the aisle of pews and out toward the dusty grey bridge that connected the cathedral to the rest of the monastery. An evening chill bit through her thin garments, sending goose-bumps all up her arms. Odd for a day of the Harpstring Moon. She would have to ask Flayn for warmer clothing, next time she saw her. Overhead, a Pegasus swooped through the skies, its white feathers bathed in an orange glow from the setting sun.

Elspeth had found the girl to be quite odd during the short time they had spent together- she spoke in a most old-fashioned way and far beyond her years, yet despite her knowledge, possessed a youthful innocence and naivety that she could only imagine was the result of her brother's protective nature. That was the impression, at least, that Elspeth had gotten from the almost intoxicating enthusiasm the girl displayed at being allowed free reign within the monastery grounds. In that regard, Elspeth could relate to her; she too had been isolated from the world for most of her life, and had only been allowed freedom after the death of her mother. Flayn had been most delighted to name every type of flora and their regions of origin inside the greenhouse, and every fish that they spotted swimming within the fishing pond. On that front, Elspeth had been most eager to display her own knowledge, since she often caught fish for Aethel. Whilst with her, her thoughts of melancholy and resentment had all but been erased from her mind, and instead she only felt pure, unadulterated joy. But now, alone as she cast her eyes down to the chasm that stooped toward the mountain's base, the nightmares returned. At first, they had been feelings of sorrow, which turned into guilt. Now, in the midst of those feelings, Elspeth could feel the beginnings of vengeance churn deep within her.

"Steep drop, huh?" A boy's voice shattered her thoughts like glass. "You should come away from the edge- don't want a lovely girl like yourself falling to her untimely doom."

Elspeth turned to face him, alarmed by his sudden presence. "Come over 'ere and I might jus' throw you to your doom." _Lovely girl._ It was an effort not to roll her eyes.

"Touché." He chuckled, brushing away loose strands of red hair that had blown in his face. "I've not had the pleasure of seeing you round here before. New student?" He leaned against the wall of the bridge, the sleeves of his academy uniform rolled up just below his elbows.

"Naw." She lowered her gaze. "I lost my home. Lady Rhea is lettin' me stay here- at least for now." Elspeth did not exactly want to tell everyone of her situation, but there was no use saying anything but the truth.

The boy frowned, straightening himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." He paused a while, seemingly at a loss for words. At last, he spoke. "Hey, it was... ah, what was it called again? Your village."

"Delaryn," Elspeth answered. The name caused a pang in her chest.

"That's the one! The knights went over there a few days ago..." he offered an apologetic smile. "Ah, sorry. You already knew that, since you were, you know..." He waved a hand. "_Any_way, I heard they found the dastards who did it. The new Professor's been tasked with using them as target practice for the Black Eagles."

Elspeth shook her head, confusion knitted in her brow. "I thought Cap'n Jeralt was goin' after 'em?" Had he so quickly forgotten his promise?

"Sure, but... Hey, you look half frozen. Why don't we go grab a bite and talk about this somewhere warmer?" The smile returned, ever charming.

"Well, I am hungry, I s'pose," she found herself saying. _No, I want to go back to my room and see Aethel_, is what she _wanted_ to say, but the boy seemed to only want to cheer her up, and so she couldn't refuse. "Though, I don't even know yer name."

"Sylvain Gautier." He offered a hand, which she shook gingerly. It was soft- the hand of a nobleman.

"Elspeth," she returned.

The dining hall was quite a distance from the cathedral, but the promise of food was enough to spur on her aching legs. Inside, it was warm and filled with the mixed aroma of different foods. Her mouth watered at the sight; grilled fish and fish skewers, stews and soups and sweet doughs. There were few spaces left at the eight long wooden benches that filled the majority of the room. Each bench, with a capacity of around twenty seats, was packed with chattering students. Their uniforms were for the most part identical; black tunics or overcoats with a wide golden trim down the centre, fastened with round black buttons. Sylvain wore a similar outfit, though his overcoat was unbuttoned to expose the crisp white shirt beneath. She followed him to a bench at the far side, next to the exit to the pond. A draft gusted in every so often, but the warmth from the room soon replaced the cold. The cycle repeated with each new gust.

"Hey, guys." He took Elspeth by the shoulders and sat her opposite a gentle-faced girl, with fair hair tied loosely over her left shoulder. "Blue Lions, meet Elspeth." He patted her shoulders with a laugh. "Wait here, I'll get us some food. And Felix," he pointed an accusing finger at a deep-purple haired boy two seats away, "be gentle."

Felix scoffed, a scowl etched onto his face. He busied himself with a hunk of hard bread, tearing off a corner and chewing irritably. The girl opposite offered a polite smile.

"You don't look like a student," she observed, her voice high and angelic. "What brings you to the monastery?"

Elspeth exhaled through her nose; a question she would be asked often, it seemed- the answer of which a grim one. "Just passing through," she settled with. Though not exactly true, it wasn't a lie either.

"Oh, I see. How lovely. And your name was Elspeth, right? I'm Mercedes," she said, and proceeded to introduce the rest of the group: Annette, a small girl with her hair pulled into neat, looped pigtails; Ingrid, bold yet elegant, who sipped her tea with a graceful poise; Ashe, a mousy boy with light freckles dotted all along his small nose that spread out over his cheeks, and finally Felix, who continued to pay little attention to anything but his food. Their house leader and his vassal were otherwise occupied, Ingrid told her. Elspeth felt out of place surrounded by so many nobles, and could only offer a forced smile or 'Yes', or 'No', in response to their small-talk.

Sylvain returned, balancing a steaming soup bowl in each hand. He placed one down in front of her, took his seat, and dug in straight away. She stared into the soup- fish, from the smell of it. Sheepishly, she used the dainty spoon provided and raised the liquid to her lips. A sigh escaped her. It was piping hot, but flavoursome and just what she needed to warm her bones. Annette offered her a hunk of bread, which she used to dip into the creamy broth. Swallowing her dozenth spoonful, she turned to Sylvain.

"So, what can ye tell me 'bout them bandits?" Elspeth asked, having to raise her voice over the other students.

He chuckled, tearing a bite from a steamed bun. "Still thinking about that, huh? Relax- the knights will take care of them."

Elspeth shook her head. "I want tae go, too. I did nothin' once before- I won't do nowt again."

Sylvain stopped tearing apart his bread and studied her with a curious eye. "Do you even know how to fight?" He sounded amused.

She lowered her gaze, eyes tracing the grooves in the wood. "Naw..." she whispered. _If I took Aethel_... No, she couldn't put him in danger. But how could she sit back, while those who pillaged and set her home aflame still lived? She was no soldier, but she'd be damned before those survivors thought her a coward.

He sighed. "I know you want to take from them what they took from you, but what good is it if you die too? Why don't you finish up your soup and come back to my room? We can keep each other warm and- _Ow!"_ The blow struck him upside the head. Felix.

"Give it up, Sylvain," he hissed, then returned to scowling at nothing in particular as if he had not spoken a word.

Elspeth was grateful- she would remember to thank him some other time. For now, all she wanted was to return to Aethel and crawl into bed. The guilt of leaving him alone for so long was beginning to weigh on her, but he was to be kept inside until they were certain he would not turn aggressive. Seteth's orders.

"I just wanna go to bed," she said, forcing a yawn.

"Yeah, no worries." Sylvain rubbed at his head. "Want me to walk you back?" He winked, lips pulled into a sly smirk.

"Not if ye keep lookin' at me like that," she warned, turning her attention to the rest of the Blue Lions before he could respond. "Was nice meetin' you all."

They did not hear her, her voice lost within the hubbub of the hall.

Sylvain banged a palm against the table, ceasing his friends' conversations. "Elspeth's leaving!" he shouted.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't hear. Will we see you again? Oh, please say we will! That is, if you want to, of course," Annette blabbered.

Mercedes giggled. "We should go to bed, too. We don't want to be falling asleep in Professor Manuela's lecture." _Manuela_... She was the Blue Lions' professor, then.

"Indeed. Ashe here looks like he's already halfway to sleep," Ingrid added with a chuckle.

The boy raised his head, eyes drooping. "Huh? I'm awake, see. I can't sleep until I've finished this book. I'm almost at the end." He lifted said book from under the table, though Elspeth could not read the title.

"Loog and the Maiden of Wind, huh? One of my favourites." Ingrid said, trying to mask her excitement.

"Mine, too!" Ashe perked up. "I just had to buy it when I saw it at the market- it was the first book I ever read as a child."

Sylvain nudged Elspeth with a shoulder. "Come on, let's go before they bore us to death with tales of knights."

As much as Elspeth was curious to hear about this Loog, it was growing harder by the second to keep the fatigue from pulling her eyelids shut. If only she could read, then she could ask the boy to lend it to her. A flash of envy sparked in her gut. Mercedes and Annette stood to leave, Elspeth and Sylvain following soon after, leaving Ingrid and Ashe to gush over the book that they were both now reading.

On the way back to her room, Elspeth allowed Sylvain to support her with an arm around her shoulder. It was not that she wanted him to, more than the fact that her legs could barely keep upright. Night had settled over the monastery, the moon casting its towers in a silvery glow. Most students had already retired to their dormitories, leaving the courtyard empty. An owl hooted from the rafters, another replying with a hoot of its own, fainter and distant. Her mind wandered to the kitsune waiting for her. _Poor mite must be beside 'imself_, she thought. She hoped he would forgive her.

Their footsteps echoed up the stairwell to the second floor, the bright torches fixed to the walls offering brief warmth as they passed by. Elspeth gripped Sylvain for balance- her legs had begun to fall asleep. _He best__ not think this means anythin'_. Once they reached the landing, it was only a short walk to the servants' quarters and to Aethel. The image of his face at her return was enough to give her legs the strength to push forward. Her room was the second along the left-hand side, and Flayn had given her the iron key, which she had kept in the pocket of her slacks. As they neared, Aethel whimpered from inside.

"What have you got in there?" Sylvain raised a groomed brow.

A mischievous smile on her lips, Elspeth turned the lock. Aethel scratched the door open and leaped into her arms, licking all up her face. It was an effort to keep hold of him; he was much bigger than a fox, but his slimness reduced his weight a fair amount. His tails wagged like the reel of a fish-hook.

Sylvain chuckled. "Well aren't you full of surprises. Who's this then?" He took a hesitant step closer, eyes asking if it was safe to approach.

"This is Aethel," she said, dropping him to the floor, his claws tip-tapping as they made contact with the stone. "Aethel, this here's Sylvain."

Aethel sniffed at the boy's feet and hands, offering a flick of his tongue against his knuckles. He soon became disinterested, nudging at Elspeth's legs instead.

"I'm not sure he likes me." Sylvain rubbed at his chin.

"Sure he does- he likes most folk. He's jus' tired, is all. Same as me," she hinted. Every inch of her willed for her to lie down and sleep.

Sylvain nodded, spiked hair bobbing at the movement. "Of course. I'll leave you two to it. Goodnight."

"Night."

Elspeth stepped into her room once Sylvain had turned the corner, and locked the door behind her. It was pitch black, and she recalled that there had not been a window to allow in light when she visited hours before. She took blind steps in the dark, navigating along the wall to find her way to her bed. Aethel was no help, having already disappeared into the shadows without a sound. _So much for missin' me_. She winced when her leg bumped into something hard. Arms outstretched, she felt the obstacle, noting the soft fabric of a sheet and a plump pillow further along. _Gotcha_. Carefully, she lowered herself onto it, and would have collapsed instead if not for the fear of slamming into the wall. The mattress was hard, but she was grateful to have a bed at all. Aethel hopped onto it, making it creak, and curled up between her and the wall. His warmth was appreciated, helping to soothe her aching limbs, and she let her mind drift away as she laced her fingers between his fur, hoping that she would not dream.

On the morrow, she would seek out Jeralt's son, Byleth, and find out the location of where the bandits dwelled. This time, she was determined to meet her nightmares in the flesh, and then, at last, the guilt might just pass.

* * *

**_A/N~ Sorry it's a little late- I got distracted by Astral Chain!!_****_Who better than Sylvain to be the first student she meets? xD (Also because the Blue Lions are my personal favourite)_**

**_I have no idea where the servants reside inside the monastery so they're on the second floor now lmao._**

**_In the_****_ next chapter, Elspeth gathers information on the bandits' hideout and makes a visit. Aethel gets in trouble._**

**As a**** side note, I will be posting word-count updates on my profile for the upcoming chapters if you're interested.**

**_Thank you to Hastelfel and Ghost for the reviews!_**


	4. Beast of the Night

**Chapter 4**

**_Beast of the Night_**

Death clung to the air. Elspeth did not recognise the man whose bedside she sat at, his face concealed by thick bandages, burned flesh visible around his shuttered eyes. She could not stomach to look at him, but neither could she not have visited. There was a solemn silence, save for the ragged breaths that tore from the man's throat. He was sleeping, and Elspeth concluded that he would perhaps never wake again. There were three brought to the infirmary. Only he remained. For how much longer, no one could say. His wounds were so severe that even magic could not save him. A hot tear splashed against her hand, and she wiped at her cheek by instinct. The door creaked open behind her.

"You're not supposed to be in here," a woman spoke. Manuela.

"I had tae see him." Elspeth's voice was broken. Empty. She heard the physician's heels click toward her.

Manuela sighed. "Awful, isn't it? Who could do such a thing? They're not human, I'll tell you that much. No more than beasts."

Elspeth glanced sidelong at the manicured hand that rested upon her shoulder. "No beast would do this, Professor. Only human folk."

A hum of agreement, then the click of retreating steps, leaving Elspeth to mourn once again in solitude. She forced herself to look at the dying man, whose breaths grew shallower with each rise and fall of his chest. _It's up to me, now. I'll do what I should'a done,_ she vowed, and left before he died.

Outside was warm, and she took a moment to bask in the sun's rays. _Much better than yesterday,_ she mused. A gentle breeze brushed through her wild curls, which she had pulled back into a messy braid and tied with a moss coloured ribbon. That morning, as requested, Flayn had brought her some furs and thick boots, but there was no longer any need for them. "Even so, they will come in useful once winter arrives," Flayn had said. After that, she listed all the things she wished to do once winter came. "I wish to make the biggest snowman in all of Fòdlan! And drink hot cocoa by the fire with my brother- oh, you must have some too! Have you ever tasted it before? It is truly delightful, you simply must try it!" she had blathered whilst fussing over Aethel, and continued to do so for some time, and Elspeth had smiled and nodded and laughed with joy, telling her that no, she had not ever had _hot cocoa_. They had talked and talked, sat on the edge of Elspeth's small bed, until Seteth arrived and told her she must leave to attend the church ceremony. Flayn had begged for Elspeth to come with her- even Seteth likened to the idea- but Elspeth told them she was to make for the infirmary. Afterward, they went their separate ways and in the end, Elspeth had hung her new furs in her wardrobe, wondering whether she would still be around come winter.

She made for the row of classrooms, mindful of avoiding the plenitude of cats lounging in the sun. Jeralt's son was a professor, and so she thought it likely she would find him inside one of the three lecture halls, the house of each displayed by coloured flags outside. Elspeth only knew two of the three; the Blue Lions at the centre, and the Black Eagles adjacent. The third depicted a lone stag against a yellow background, its horns like the bare branches of a tree. _Yellow stag...?_ she pondered, clicking her tongue. She peered her head round the doorway. Empty. The next was also empty, and she wondered whether she would find Byleth after all, until she looked into the classroom of the Eagles and saw a man examining papers at his desk.

Elspeth knocked once, twice. He looked up, face unreadable. "Um, excuse me?" She cleared her throat. "Are you Cap'n Jeralt's son?" The room smelled of old books and wet ink, and the faint lingering scent of perfume.

"I am. You are Elspeth, correct? Come in," he said, and beckoned her forward with a gloved hand. "I see you do not have your pet with you. A shame- I was hoping to meet him."

"How d'you know 'bout me an' Aethel?" Her steps were timid, and she eyed him with curiosity. He did not _look_ like Jeralt; his hair a mop of dark green compared to Jeralt's blonde, features too angular and... _empty._

Byleth removed his reading glasses, face unchanged. "My father told me of you; you have quite distinctive hair." He gestured to a chair at the head of the desk. "Take a seat."

She sat, eyes focusing on the red interlocking triangles stitched to his tunic. "Oh, right..." she muttered, self-consciously brushing loose curls behind an ear.

"So, how can I help?" he asked with some semblance of a comforting tone.

"They died," she blurted. It was all she could think about- the man with the burned flesh.

"Who?"

Elspeth raised her gaze. The eyes that looked back were dull and showed nothing. "Everyone." The words came out before she could stop herself. "They're all gone, Byleth. All those folk. Delaryn... everything. And my ma..." Her voice broke, and she began to weep. Byleth did not move.

"I lost my mother, too. A long time ago."

"Wha?" She sniffed, wiping her tears onto her sleeves. It was not the answer she expected to hear.

"The pain will pass, with time. You must fight through the darkness of your grief and wake in the light of tomorrow. And you must never forget. It will make you stronger." He offered her a handkerchief.

She took it and blew her nose, taken aback by his words. "I think I understand ye..." _But it doesn't help the pain_. Sighing, she wiped her eyes a final time. "I want ye to teach me to fight," she said without thinking.

Byleth reclined in his chair, arms folded. "I thought as much. You seek revenge."

Nodding, she said, "I had a dream, the night it happened," she paused, unsure whether she should continue. Why was she telling a stranger this?

"Go on."

Somehow, she knew she could trust him. "In the dream... I fought 'em. The bandits. And then... Well, it was jus' a dream." She looked down, afraid to say any more. The man with eyes like fire. The blade carved from his bone plunging into her chest. _Thought you could run away?_ A chill ran down her spine.

Byleth narrowed his eyes. "What happened?"

She looked at him a moment before answering. "I died," she whispered.

The professor hummed, tapping the desk with his index finger. "As you say- it was just a dream. One born from the guilt of surviving when no one else did. If revenge is what you truly seek, then I suspect there is nothing I can do to stop you. All I can do is offer you a hand, and guide you through the storm."

Elspeth's eyes widened. "You'll help me?"

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, and then it was gone as soon as it came. "Next week I am taking my students to the Red Canyon, where we believe the bandits have fled to." He pushed away from the desk. "The knights will be assisting, too. You will be quite safe, should you come with us." He stood, straightening his cloak. "Meet me in the training grounds at dusk. There, we will see how well you handle a sword."

She blinked at him. _Next week..._ It was sooner than she expected, and far too little time to prepare. But with his guidance, she was sure her training would be efficient. "Th-thank ye, sir!" she called after him.

"I am no sir," is all he said in return.

That night, after dining with the Blue Lions and- yet again- refusing Sylvain's advances, she made her way to her room. This time she brought with her a candle, and a stash of breads and fat sausages she had hidden inside her pockets for Aethel. He wolfed them down, then lapped from the water bowl set beside the bed. "I'm goin' out again, boy," she told him. He whined at her feet, water dripping onto her tattered shoes. "I know yer missin' me, but I gotta. I'll be back soon- promise." She scratched him behind the ears and went to lock the door.

The training grounds were not hard to find, only a few yards from the classrooms behind heavy iron doors. She found Byleth stood at the centre of the sandstone arena, a wooden sword balanced against each leg. He tossed one toward her, the wood clanging against the floor at her feet. "Pick it up, and we will begin," said Byleth, flipping his own into his grip. Elspeth lowered and grasped the hilt. It was heavier than she imagined, and she needed to use both hands to stop from dropping it. "It is weighted like a real sword," he explained.

She swung it in the air, getting a feel for its weight. It reminded her of the children back home, though they made do with twigs. And now here she was, pretending to be a knight too. "Ye think I can get good with this thing?" she asked, sword whooshing through the air.

Byleth spun his sword in his grip as if it weighed no more than a feather. "Let's see, shall we? Strike me."

She charged for him, swinging down with all her might. With a flick of his wrist he deflected her blow and sent her tumbling backward, striking her in the rib. Pain flashed through her abdomen, raw and throbbing. "Did ye have tae?" she hissed. No doubt it would bruise by the morrow.

"You died," he said, voice blank. "Again."

And so she struck again.

And again, and again, replacing his face with the one of her nightmares.

Until her whole torso ached and she lay panting in the dust, the moon rising above. Byleth towered above her, face masked by the dark. He had barely broken a sweat. "I'm no good..." she sighed, defeated.

"You are improving. It is your first session, after all," Byleth said. She supposed it was true- she could not expect to be a skilled knight after a few hours. "Would you like to stop?"

Elspeth staggered to her feet, brushing the dust and stones from her clothes. "No. We only have 'til next week, you said. I don't 'av time tae rest."

"A knight's resolve. I'm impressed." Byleth's eyes glimmered under the moonlight. He resembled a wraith; pale skin and dark hair with eyes that she was sure could see her soul, his robes billowing with each step he took, black as shadow.

"My da was a knight," she confessed. "Least, that's what my mam told me." It was one of the few things she knew of him... In fact, one of the _only_ things.

"A Knight of Seiros?" he asked, intrigue knitted in his brow.

Elspeth shrugged. "I dunno. Jus' a knight... He could be dead," she admitted. As was everyone else she had known, she realised.

"That he may be," Byleth said, readying himself for her next flurry of blows. "Or perhaps he still lives." And with that, Elspeth tried once more to break his defence.

It was another hour until she could spar no more, her hands too sore and blistered, her hair matted and clinging to her face. Judging from the position of the moon, it was close to midnight. Byleth helped her to her feet, prying the sword from her clammy grasp. "You did well, for a beginner."

"Ye think so?" She wiped the sweat from her brow.

He nodded, though she wasn't convinced. "Get some rest. We will continue at the same hour tomorrow, if you wish it."

"I do," she said firmly.

When she crept into bed that night, she fell into sleep bruised and exhausted, the sound of clashing wood in her head. Each day after she would wake in the small hours of the morning to allow Aethel to relieve himself in the gardens, and then she would be greeted by Flayn before the first bell chimed. They would break their fast and laugh until their voices were hoarse, or until Seteth arrived to steal her away. And each evening, after supping with the Lions, she would meet Byleth at the training grounds, alone beneath the setting sun, where they would continue her training. On the second night they worked on her defence, until she could finally hold the sword in one hand and parry a blow. On the third night, Felix joined them. Only out of boredom, he'd said.

"Your attacks lack focus," he grunted mid-swing.

Elspeth parried the blow, scanning for an opening. She thrust toward his rib, a beat too early. He deflected it with ease, retaliating with his own. It struck her square in the chest, making her wince. Byleth watched from the side, silent.

"You're too slow." Felix observed her with cold eyes.

"I'm _not," _she argued.

His laugh was bitter. "You think the vermin who slaughtered your friends will wait for you to strike? They'll cut you down like a dog."

She groaned, despite knowing he was right. "Then show me how you do it."

"I have better things to do than teach village girls how to-"

Byleth shifted, silencing them with a raised hand. "Be quiet."

Elspeth parted her lips to argue, when a scream tore through the night. It was coming from the courtyard.

"The hell's going on?" Felix narrowed his eyes, skirting round toward the exit of the grounds. The doors burst open, and through them came a female student with terror in her eyes, fleeing from...

_No_... Elspeth looked in horror at the glowing eyes and bared teeth. _"Aethel?"_ The name caught in her throat. How had he escaped?

Felix backed up, swinging his sword in an attempt to deter him. It was no more use than a stick. Aethel snarled, stalking closer, fur bristling along his back. His pools of jet shifted to the matching sword in Elspeth's hand. He leapt forward in an instant, snarling, pouncing onto Felix and splintering the wood between his fangs.

_"Aethel, no!"_ Elspeth screamed, but he would not listen, his bloodlust too strong. Byleth rushed to tear the kitsune from Felix, whose arm now gushed with blood from the teeth that sunk into his flesh. He cried in agony, kicking and pushing and cursing at Aethel, but the kitsune only sank his teeth and claws deeper, tearing through his clothes with a feral growl. Her mind swam, what was he _doing?_ It was as if he was possessed. She broke from her stupor and hurried to help Byleth, tugging at Aethel's body. He snapped his head toward her, eyes bloodthirsty and teeth like knives. When he saw her tears, his eyes softened, and he pried his claws from Felix's flesh, fangs dripping with his blood.

Knights swarmed into the training grounds, armour clanking and spearheads aimed at Aethel's head. They parted down the middle, and Elspeth's heart sank to see Seteth emerge from within them. _No, no,_ this couldn't be happening... They must have heard the scream. Aethel snarled, once again baring his teeth. Elspeth stroked her shaking fingers over the curve of his back, trying to soothe him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Seteth demanded, brow tightly furrowed.

Kneeling beside Felix, Byleth spoke. "Take him to Manuela. The creature must have heard us sparring." He snapped his fingers at a guard, who heaved the boy from the floor, slung him over a shoulder like a sack and carried him away. A pool of blood glistened where he had lain, black in the night.

Seteth glowered. "I will _not_ ask again. What is the meaning of this?"

Elspeth began to answer, but he shushed her.

"No. No, you will stand before the Archbishop and tell her _exactly_ what transpired here. Both of you." His gaze flicked to Aethel. "Get that creature out of my sight." Two guards shuffled forward. Aethel snarled, snapping his jaws in warning. Another guard flanked him from behind and jabbed something into his neck. Aethel yelped, then slumped to the floor.

"What d'ye think yer doin!?" Elspeth tried to reach him, but Byleth pulled her back. She kicked and screamed as the two guards dragged his limp body away._ "AETHEL!"_ she shrieked, tears streaming down her face.

"Bring the girl," Seteth ordered Byleth. She tried to break free from his grip. _Aethel... Not you, too..._

She sobbed as they escorted her to the audience chamber, feeling as if her heart had been torn from her chest. The only thing she had left, and they took him from her. She hated Seteth, hated the knights, hated the Goddess.

Lady Rhea stood before her golden throne, elegant as ever. Though this time, her gaze was like ice. "Bring her forward."

Byleth loosened his grip on Elspeth's arm and nodded his head. A silent plea for her to cooperate.

Rhea addressed Seteth. "Is it as we feared?"

"Indeed, Archbishop. The beast escaped and injured a student. His wounds are deep; I have sent for a knight to wake Professor Manuela- she should be tending to him as we speak," he reported.

"Good. Now-"

A commotion erupted outside, shouting and cursing. "What the hell is going on here?" Jeralt had pushed his way into the chamber, face stern. His eyes met his son's. "Byleth?"

"Hello, father," is all his son said.

Seteth crossed his arms, taking his place by Rhea's side. "Ah, Captain Jeralt. Here to defend the girl again?" His tone was laced with poison.

It took a moment before he noticed her. "Kid?" He looked taken aback. "What did you do?"

"They killed 'im, Jeralt! They killed Aethel!" she cried. Jeralt would defend her, she knew he would.

Rhea lowered herself onto her throne, hands folded into her lap. "The kitsune is not dead. Only... subdued, for now. He will wake within the hour. It was Seteth's idea to take the sedative, as a precaution. One that was necessary, it seems."

Though relief washed over her, the anger did not fade. Jeralt stepped beside her; ever her guardian. "And why is he _subdued?"_ he questioned.

Seteth answered. "The beast attacked a student. It is lucky he did not kill him. I warned you that this would happen, Archbishop."

Rhea's face showed no emotion. "That you did, Seteth. It seems I did not take into account the creature's... circumstances. He is not as I thought he would be. I must reflect on my false judgement."

Elspeth searched her face, trying to find meaning in her words. What did she mean, how she _thought he would be?_

"Professor." Rhea turned her attention to Byleth. "How did this attack come to be?"

"Aethel was jus' tryna protect me! He didn't mean tae hurt Felix!" Elspeth pleaded. Aethel had never hurt a soul since she found him. Why had he done so now?

"Silence. Lady Rhea addressed the Professor," Seteth cautioned.

Byleth watched, calm as ever. "Elspeth and I were training, as we have been the past few nights. Though tonight, Felix joined us," he explained.

Jeralt inhaled a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "_Training?_ Goddess give me strength..." he muttered.

The professor ignored his father, continuing to state the series of events. How he had been training Elspeth to help with her grief, and how Aethel had thought her to be in danger.

"You would defend this beast?" Seteth sneered.

"No. I merely suggest it was a misunderstanding. One with grave consequences, yes, but one nonetheless."

Fury flashed in Seteth's eyes. "A student almost _died_, Professor! And, pray tell, what you were doing _training_ this girl? You have an entire class of pupils to teach, you do not need to put a sword in the hands of a grieving village girl!"

"Compose yourself, Seteth." Rhea looked to him. "Perhaps if you had trusted my judgement and not ordered for the kitsune to be shut inside without my counsel, this incident may never have happened." Her voice carried a hint of subtle irritation.

He pursed his lips tightly, bristling with vexation.

Rhea smoothed the fabric of her dress and stepped from her throne. "Now, we must discuss a suitable punishment."

"I say we dispose of the beast and be done with it," Seteth offered.

Elspeth had heard enough. _"I hate you!"_ she screamed, charging for him. Jeralt lunged to stop her, but he was too late. She dived onto Seteth, sending them both crashing onto the hard marble floor. Strong arms yanked her upward, dragging her back kicking and yelling. "Let me go so I can kick 'im up his holy...-" Jeralt clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.

Seteth rose to his feet and fixed his hair, straightening his robes in disgust. "Well, that explains it, does it not? A wild beast for a wild girl," he spat.

Jeralt groaned, still grasping her tightly against his chest. The bruises on her torso throbbed with pain. "Calm down, kid!" Elspeth ceased her protests, if only to stop the pain.

Rhea observed, sighing lightly with impatience. "Your anger is understandable, child, but please try to control yourself. Though, I suppose you are not the only, shall we say... _colourful_ personality this year in the monastery. The son of house Bergliez, if you recall, Seteth."

"Forgive me, Archbishop, but I do not recall the son of Bergliez ever assaulting high ranking members of the Church," Seteth shot back.

"That may be so, but you must remember that this child has lost everything. We cannot take from her the one thing she holds dear." Rhea offered her a smile, though it did not reach her eyes. "Captain Jeralt, please send away the child for now. Seteth and I will discuss a suitable punishment. One that does _not_ involve death." She glanced at her advisor, eyes like daggers.

Elspeth did not believe her. They saw her as no more than a child- a burden. Even her dear captain. She would prove them wrong, prove that she was no coward. Whilst they continued to argue, she wriggled free from Jeralt's grasp and sprinted for the stairwell, dodging through the guards nimble as a cat. Shouts came from behind, orders barked, but her heart was racing too loud to hear. Her goal was clear; the knight's hall, and onward to the stables. Then, the Red Canyon. Leaving Aethel behind tore at her heart, but there was no way to bring him with her. She was sure that Jeralt, and even Byleth, would not allow him to be harmed. Her feet pounded against the cobbles as she darted through the halls, and she almost slammed into a boy with dark skin and a yellow cape fastened over his left shoulder. She apologised breathlessly and continued her escape, adrenaline surging through her veins. The hall was but a few more steps away, and she skidded to a halt once she was there. Her aim was to find a weapon; she recalled seeing stacks of them on her tour with Flayn. _Oh, Flayn..._ How the Goddess had cursed such a sweet girl with such an awful brother. Once she had slain the bandits and returned for Aethel, she would be sure to take Flayn with her. It was a fool's dream- Seteth would never stop searching for them if that were to happen. She dismissed the thought and continued her search.

Elspeth fumbled along the wall, squinting in the dim light, until her hand brushed against leather- the sheath of a blade. She grabbed it and threw the strap over her shoulder, readying herself to sprint again. Torchlight flickered at the end of the hallway, distant voices echoing. _"This way... can't have gone far... see her?"_ The guards were catching up to her. She bolted round the left corner and was relieved to find the stable just up ahead. There was no time to saddle up a horse- she would have to ride bareback. She unclicked the latch on the second stall along and she was greeted by a chestnut mare with a sleek black mane. The reins were tied to a hook on the wall, so she untangled them and threw them clumsily over the horse's head, vaguely remembering how to clasp the ties. Once she was satisfied, she threw herself onto the mare's back with a grunt, wriggling into a sitting position and grasping the reins. The horse complained, braying and whinnying, but Elspeth stroked along her mane and shushed her. She settled, and with a tap of her heels the mare trotted out from her stall, with Elspeth desperately trying to guide her toward the gates. It was hard to balance, and for a brief moment she thought her escape would be foiled, but she soon got used to the lack of saddle and kicked the horse into a canter.

They galloped past the gatekeeper and under the portcullis, hooves clacking against stone, and followed the rocky path to the Oghma Mountains stretching along the west.

* * *

**_A/N~ All I have to say is: Elspeth wyd??? Also, Seteth won't always act like a complete douche- he has his reasons lol_**

**In the next chapter, we follow the Black Eagles as the search for Elspeth begins.**

_**Thank**** you to StarSonata for the review!!**_


	5. Mountain Descent

**Chapter 5**

**_Mountain Descent_**

Edelgard von Hresvelg did not often sleep, and so the knock that sounded at her door in the small hours of the morning had been a welcome distraction from the darkness of her thoughts. A summons to the audience chamber, to arrive immediately. The messenger had not allowed her ample time to dress in proper attire, so she had to make do with donning a velvet cloak of crimson over her nightdress and pulling on a pair of knee-length leather boots to hide her legs within. An odd look, for an odd occasion. She had thought about waking Hubert, but decided he would only be ordered to stand guard outside, anyway. After smoothing down her chalk-white hair and deeming herself presentable, Edelgard slipped through the dark corridor of the dormitory, silent as a reaper, and made her way to where the Archbishop awaited.

Inside the audience chamber, Edelgard surveyed the room, sensing the tension between those stood around her. They spoke in hushed tones, paying her no mind since she had arrived, and she wondered why they had bothered to summon her at all. "May I speak?" An announcement of her presence more than a question. When they ceased their mumblings, she spoke again. "Forgive my being blunt, but I have been summoned here in the dead of night, and yet you would not have me hear the reason why?"

Byleth looked almost apologetic. "Apologies, Edelgard. You know of the girl who arrived a few days past?"

"I've heard rumours." A girl from the neighbouring village set aflame by the same bandits who had almost ended the life of Edelgard herself, not long ago. If not for the Professor, things would have gotten... out of hand. _I should have disposed of them when I had the chance._ "They say she brought a beast, one like no other seen before. Deadlier than a red wolf and bigger than an ox, with four tails coiled like snakes." She chuckled at the absurdity.

"Ah... Not quite. But the beast is true enough- a kitsune."

Edelgard's eyes widened momentarily. "A kitsune? I have only heard of them in stories. A creature blessed by the heavens themselves, with unknowable power." They were remarkable, from the tales her uncle told her when she was young, but she had long stopped believing in them. Depicted with tails as many as nine, and the power to see through time itself. Could such a being truly exist?

Rhea spoke. "They are no stories, princess. Though this one is... different."

"Different how?" Edelgard's curiosity was getting the better of her.

Seteth clenched his fists, then relaxed them. _"This one_ almost killed a student, for one. The blessings of the Goddess must no longer reach his kind, though that comes as no surprise. His kind abandoned us long ago."

"I see. And, may I ask, what this has to do with me?"

"The girl fled the monastery no more than a half hour ago. She seeks revenge on those who did her harm." Byleth's shoulders tensed with unrest. "We believe she has stolen one of the horses and made for the Red Canyon."

Edelgard hummed in understanding. "Alone? How brazen of her. I assume we have been tasked with bringing her back?" A girl alone in the dead of night against an entire camp of bandits... the odds did not look favourable.

"Correct," Rhea affirmed. "As you know, your class was already tasked this moon to destroy their ilk. However, this new situation has... complicated things, quite. You must leave for the Red Canyon at once."

Byleth shook his head. "We will leave at dawn. The mountain path is difficult to traverse at night, and my father already went ahead to find Elspeth. He will keep her safe until we arrive." He addressed Edelgard. "Wake the others, have them ready themselves at once. I will see to our supplies. We will meet in the entrance hall." He made his way out to the hallway.

"Professor," Rhea called. Byleth lingered at the door. "Take the kitsune. I-"

_"Lady Rhea!"_ Seteth protested.

She silenced him with a raised hand. "I believe he will be able to aid you on your mission. Observe him. I will await your report." Rhea gave a dismissive nod.

Byleth stepped to leave, but hesitated. "One last thing, Archbishop- who notified you of the kitsune's escape?"

She regarded him curiously. "That would be Tomas, our librarian."

"I see, thank you." Byleth turned the corner, not waiting for Edelgard. She became very aware of the eyes watching her.

Rhea could sense her discomfort. "You are dismissed, child. May the Goddess watch over you."

_The Goddess watches none_, Edelgard thought bitterly. Regardless of her thoughts, she bowed her head in thanks, and fled the chamber almost at a run. The Archbishop unnerved her, to tell the truth, but she did not frighten her. There was a coldness about her despite her blessings and warm smiles- they were simply a façade, and Edelgard could see right through to her rotted core.

In the hallway, Hubert stood waiting, his tall, lean figure one with the shadows, and she would have missed him if not for his voice. "Lady Edelgard, you are not dressed," he said in greeting, startling her.

"Hubert!" she scolded him, placing a hand over her heart to slow its racing. "As ever, you miss nothing. I thought I had been successful in sneaking from the dormitories undetected."

He chuckled darkly. "That you were, Lady Edelgard. However, the messenger boy was not."

She sighed. "Of course. Well, I am glad you are here. We must wake the Black Eagles immediately. Our mission has been pushed forward." She began to descend the stairwell, Hubert a step behind.

They followed the cobblestone path past the academy to the dorm rooms, torchlight guiding their way. At this hour, the academy was usually dormant, the only company being that of snowy owls and the moon casting its ethereal glow across the high towers and halls. Edelgard would often wander the grounds to distract from her night traumas, letting her mind become one with the surroundings and for a blissful moment, forgetting the world and her position. Now, however, guards patrolled the yard, their heavy armour clanking with each step as sleepy-eyed students in their nightwear emerged from their rooms, eyes watching the commotion. Edelgard stopped. "You wake the first floor. I will see to the second..." she glanced downward at herself. "And dress in proper gear. Tell them to ready themselves for battle- this will be no mere training exercise. The Professor instructed us to meet him in the entrance hall."

"As you wish, Lady Edelgard." Hubert bowed low and headed toward the first room in great strides, leaving Edelgard to silently apologise to those who were about to become victims of his ominous presence.

The second floor of the dormitories was quieter than the first, the sounds from outside barely audible. Edelgard decided it best to dress before waking her classmates, and so she made the brief walk to the middle of the narrow hallway to her room, floorboards creaking with every other step. Inside her room, she lit the candle atop her dresser and shrugged off her cloak and thin nightdress, the cool night air kissing her skin. Her academy uniform was hung up beside her bed, neatly pressed. She dressed quickly in the dim light, breathing in the familiar scent of candlewax and the roses she kept atop her dresser. After fastening her red cape about her shoulders, shoving her dagger through her belt and clipping back her hair, she took her candle and the axe beside her bed, then strode from her room to the next along- Ferdinand's.

Ferdinand von Aegir was the son of Duke Aegir, the Prime Minister of the Empire. The Aegirs were a proud house and had held the office of prime ministers for centuries, a position Ferdinand would one day inherit. He fashioned himself as Edelgard's rival, much to her dismay, turning almost every situation into a competition. Though as much as he irritated her, Edelgard could not deny his battle capabilities. A few moments after her knock, he greeted her in a haze of sleep. She explained the situation and swiftly moved onto Caspar's room, having to tell the boy to quieten down lest he wake the whole dormitory. Once she was sure they were both getting ready, she left.

Back outside the sky had begun to grey, dawn not too far away. Edelgard passed the fishing pond in the direction of the entrance hall, when she saw it.

The kitsune.

Escorted on a leash tied to its muzzle by two guards, he shifted his gaze in her direction, as if he knew she were watching. She expected his eyes to look fierce and primitive, but instead they only appeared... _sad. _He was no beast as the rumours had said, his tails did not coil like snakes nor did he foam at the mouth like a rabid dog. Instead he was scrawny, and his ribs would have shown if not for his thick coat. They locked eyes until a guard tugged his leash harshly, and Edelgard was sure she could hear him yelp. It riled her. _They see him as a monster, a weapon, and yet all he wants is his girl._ If he was to travel with them, she would make sure they treated him well- she knew first-hand what it was like to be seen as no more than a weapon.

Edelgard met up with Hubert within the entrance hall, where she spotted the professor conversing with a man she had not expected to see again so soon. "Professor, is there a problem?" she asked on her approach.

Seteth forced a smile. "Ah, Edelgard. As I was just explaining to the professor, I will be joining you on your mission."

Edelgard was surprised, to say the least. "For what reason? The Black Eagles are perfectly capable of dealing with lowly bandits."

"I have no doubt. However, that is not the reason I will be joining. The girl fleeing the monastery was the fault of myself. I fear I may have been too... harsh, so to speak." He paused. "Furthermore, I must keep an eye on the kitsune. I cannot have it harming another student."

_Perhaps it would sooner feast on you_, she mused. "I see. Well, I have no objections. Professor?"

Byleth exhaled lightly. "I see no reason for you to risk your safety. My father already went on ahead to find Elspeth. What if there are archers?"

Seteth chuckled. "A wyvern flies far faster than a horse on the ground, and I am more capable than I look, Professor. I will come along regardless of your stance, and that is final."

The professor ground his teeth, though nodded. "Very well. Fly high, but do not engage combat alone. If you find Elspeth..." He sighed. "I very much doubt she would be pleased to see you, but try to persuade her to come back regardless. Tell her Aethel is waiting for her- that is sure to bring her back."

"Indeed. Let us pray the Goddess allows us a safe journey ahead, Professor," Seteth said, exiting the hall. Byleth watched him leave, and Edelgard tried to decipher his thoughts, to no avail. A bawdy laugh turned their attention towards the dining hall.

"Good, the others have arrived," Byleth observed.

The laugh had belonged to Caspar von Bergliez, his arm around the shoulder of a most displeased Linhardt. Dorothea, Ferdinand and Petra followed in tow. Edelgard sighed. "This is no time to joke, Caspar," she scolded.

Caspar made a rude face. "Sheesh, _sorry_. But we haven't even left yet."

Edelgard ignored him, scanning their faces and making a mental count. Her brow furrowed. "Where is Bernadetta?"

Dorothea answered. "Bernie isn't feeling too well. I'm sure we will be just fine without her, won't we Edie?" She laughed nervously.

Edelgard shook her head in disbelief. "You don't really believe that." _That__ girl would say anything to get out of a mission._

"Shall I retrieve her, Lady Edelgard?" Hubert offered.

Byleth interjected. "There is no time. No doubt she has not bothered to dress. Dawn is upon us," he said, heading out to where the knights waited. He was right, the long fingers of light already stretching their way into the hall. The timid girl would have to be left behind- just this once.

Edelgard led her class outside, tuning out their mindless chatter. The sky continued to lighten by the minute, and birds had begun to emerge from their nests to sing their morning songs. Byleth stood alone beside a silver stallion, observing. Waiting. _What hides behind those empty eyes, I wonder?_ One day, she hoped to discover the secrets they held.

She saw the kitsune sat obediently between the legs of his holders, deep purple eyes fixed on Edelgard. A chill crept down her spine. How long had he been watching her?

"So there really _is_ a kitsune within the monastery," Linhardt's voice droned behind her. _Perhaps the creature was watching him, instead..._ "We must bring back the girl so I can conduct research into his abilities."

"How thoughtful of you. Is there any chance you may just wish to see her safe?" Edelgard asked in annoyance.

Linhardt tore his eyes from Aethel, expression blank. "No. In my opinion, anyone who runs off to fight a horde of bandits alone deserves what's coming. I _do_ hold interest in her pet, though, so I guess we just have to go and save her."

Edelgard tried not to scoff. _All he cares about is his research._ "It looks like we're leaving," she said to change the subject. The knights, a group of around ten, had begun to rendezvous beneath the gate leading out to the mountain. Edelgard turned to address the Eagles. "Let's go. Does everyone have their weapons?"

Heads nodded, Caspar whooped, and Edelgard patted her own axe and dagger to make sure they were there. Byleth called out to her. "Edelgard, this one's ours." She turned to see him holding the reins of the silver stallion.

"Do we have enough horses?" she asked as he helped lift her into the saddle.

"You will ride with me. The others will also have to ride two-a-horse, I'm afraid. The knights will follow on foot." Addressing the Eagles, he rose his voice, "Hubert, you will ride with Ferdinand. Linhardt, with Caspar, and Dorothea with Petra." He looked up at Edelgard, ignoring Ferdinand and Linhardt's protests. "Ah, can you move back some?"

She nodded, shifting in the saddle. He mounted and took the reins, his black robes draping over the sides. Unsure where to place her arms, she clung to the rear of the saddle. "A little impractical, is it not? Hubert will not be pleased."

The leather squeaked as he turned, and she could feel the warmth of his breath as he talked. "Perhaps... A perfect chance for them all to bond, though, no? They must learn to work together."

Edelgard could only agree. They would have to leave their petty disagreements behind if they were to survive the coming fight. Byleth clicked his tongue and kicked the horse into a steady trot, the clack of its hooves echoing along the stone. Hubert kept his black close behind, face contorted in disgust as Ferdinand clung to his waist. Edelgard chuckled at the sight. The knights took the rear, dragging along the kitsune, his tails drooped. Her heart ached. "Professor, I wish to attach the kitsune to our saddle," she announced as they passed beneath the portcullis.

Byleth pulled the horse to a stop, twisting round. "Walter, bring the kitsune here!" he shouted down to one of Aethel's handlers- a meek looking boy, his armour seemingly too big for him. The boy, Walter, dragged the reluctant kitsune along with shaking hands and handed the leash to Byleth. "Thank you." The professor unsheathed his blade and, pulling the leash taut, cut the rope where it looped round the neck. The knights broke into an uproar.

"Professor...-" Edelgard began.

Byleth shoved his sword back into its scabbard. "What?" He faced Edelgard, brow raised. "You know that he will not harm us. Look."

Edelgard shifted her eyes to the kitsune. He shook the split rope from his neck and stretched low. "His tails no longer droop," she observed with a smile.

"I'm afraid he must keep his muzzle, at least for now. I do not fancy suffering another headache from Seteth." Byleth said, patting their horse back into a trot. Aethel, now free from his captors, led the way down the uneven path speckled with clusters of wildflowers that stretched out from between cracks. Every so often he would disappear into a crevice or a ditch to sniff, but always returned a few moments later. Edelgard focused her attention to the horizon, and the sound of steady disharmonious hoof beats. Clouds dotted the sky in hues of violet and amber, the morning still young. It would not be long until they reached the Red Canyon, a quarter of an hour at their current pace at a guess, and Edelgard found herself worrying. The Eagles had never fought a real battle before; one wrong move, and someone could lose their life. _We will be fine... We have the Professor here._

The mountain path took a sudden steep dip, jolting Edelgard from her seat. She gripped onto Byleth's arms to steady herself. "Hold onto my waist, if you like," he said in his usual monotone.

A blush crept into her cheeks. "I..." Another drop. She sighed, shifting closer and winding her arms gingerly around his waist. "Sorry, Professor." His clothes smelled earthy, of pine and leather. Up ahead, something caught her eye. Byleth saw it too.

"A horse." His tone darkened. Aethel began to whine, sniffing the ground intensely. He darted off to where the horse was approaching at speed. Edelgard could not say for certain whose horse it was, but it did not bode well.

"Professor, the beast has finding of something," Petra said.

"Is it not the horse?" Byleth steadied the silver to a stop.

"No. See, he is waiting." Petra pulled up beside them, pointing, her purple braid falling from her shoulder. The fleeing horse, a chestnut, sped past them. The knights blocked its path, trying to grab at its reins. It kicked and neighed, reversing back the way it came. Ferdinand jumped from his saddle with a thud and assisted with soothing the agitated mare, cooing and stroking at her mane.

When the mare calmed, Byleth slid from the saddle. "Wait here." He drew his sword and stalked toward Aethel, stones crunching beneath his feet. Edelgard watched intently, her breath caught in her throat. Seconds felt like minutes, and she found herself on foot, axe in hand. There was no telling what he would find, and she did not like to chance an ambush. Byleth lowered into a crouch, sifting through the dirt where Aethel sat whining.

"What is it, Professor?" Edelgard crept closer, leaning over his shoulder to see. In his hand she saw a tattered moss coloured ribbon, the frayed edges covered in dirt and... "Is that blood?"

Byleth stood, expression grim. "Elspeth's blood."

* * *

**_A/N~ Little bit of an introduction to the Black Eagles and our new PoV character, Edelgard._**

**In**** the next chapter, a battle ensues.****That's all I really have to say lol, see you next time!**


	6. Red Canyon Dominance

**Chapter 6**

**_Red Canyon Dominance_**

Fleeing from the monastery was a mistake. Elspeth realised that now, as she scrambled along the uneven mountain range with no sense of where she was going. It all looked the same; muted colours and identical rocks along the way, the only indication she was moving forward being the monastery shrinking behind her. _Stupid_, she scolded herself. _No wonder they all think me a child_. Her head still stung where it had split on the jagged edge of a rock after she had fallen from her horse. When she awoke from her brief unconsciousness, the horse was gone and the sky all the brighter. Navigating during the day was far easier than at night, but following the path was no longer an option. Not with the winged monstrosity she had seen swoop the skies. To avoid its attention, she had darted into the sparse foliage and hidden until she was sure it would not return.

When her feet began to ache and her hands blistered, she decided to return to the path and rest. Wiping the sweat from her brow, Elspeth clambered onto the smooth side of dusty grey rock beside a narrow waterfall spilling down the ravine below, and looked out across the rolling valleys and dense forests of green. Kingdom territory to the north, the border between it and the Empire an invisible line, with no telling where one territory ended and the other began. She often wondered what the north was like, imagining sheets of white as far as the eye could see, bare branches decorated with hundreds of glistening icy jewels. The smell of pine and fresh fallen snow. One day she would be sure to visit- she could even take the furs Flayn had gifted her. Her mind wandered from the far reaches of Faerghus back to the monastery- to Aethel. She could only imagine the stress he would be in without her. Guilt invaded her heart, weighing her down. In frustration she launched a stray stone down into the gaping mouth of the ravine, hating herself for being so _childish_. With a sniff, she slid the sword belt from over her back, placing it straight across her knees. Her fingers tugged at the frayed leather edges until they brushed upward along the rough hilt. Grasping it, she unsheathed the blade, the steel reflecting the sunlight. Its design was simple and dull, but effective, the edges looking to be recently sharpened. It felt wrong in her hand, something foreign and powerful. Something that should not be in her possession.

Faint hoofbeats shifted her gaze back toward the path. Elspeth squinted, raising her free arm to block out the still rising sun, but she saw nothing. Then, from over the hill came the silhouette of a lone horse, the figure of a man perched on its back. Her grip on the hilt tightened as she slid from her seat and lowered into a crouch, shuffling over to hide behind a wall of stone. The slow beats continued, growing louder, edging ever closer. Elspeth peered through a crack between two conjoined slabs, heart hammering in her chest. The horse whickered as it came to a stop, its legs visible through the gap. She kept low, fear setting into her bones as her brows lifted. She heard a thud, the crunch of stones beneath boots. Then silence. Elspeth released a steady blow of warm air, waiting for any sign of movement.

None came.

She grew impatient, her legs beginning to cramp. With a short huff she planned her next move, remembering her few training sessions. _Focus, jus' like Felix said_. She adjusted her grip, breathing deep. _One, two, three... _She shot up from her hiding place, blade aimed to kill. Steel clanged against her own, the force knocking her back, though she did not fall.

_"Jeralt?"_ Relief washed over her like a tide, legs wobbling. "I could'a _killed_ ye! Why didn't you say somethin'?" She ran a shaky hand through the tangles of her hair, breaths shallow.

He took a swig from a leather skin, devious smile on his lips. "I don't think ssso, kid." His words slurred. "I was testing your instincts... and having a bit of fun." He chuckled and raised the skin to his lips again, frowning when nothing came out. Sighing, he capped the lid and tied the skin to his belt. From the state of him, she could only guess he'd been drinking all night.

"Ye think it's fun scaring me half tae death?" she snapped, more with disbelief than anger. She fetched her scabbard off the ground and shoved the blade inside, dusted it off, then swung the strap back over her head. Jeralt sheathed his own. "Well, don't matter. I know I did wrong. S'pose I deserve it." She bit her lip, foot poking holes in the dirt. "D'ye know where Aethel is?"

Jeralt suppressed a cough, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He spun to face Garreg Mach, looming in the distance. "Under guard, I'd wager. If not, then he'll be on his way here." He turned back to her with a wobble. "Did Ssseteth not see you?"

Elspeth shook her head slowly. "Should he 'av? All I've seen is some dragon lookin' thing. Scared me it did. I went 'an hid where it couldn't see me." She shuddered at the thought of what it would have done if it _had_ seen her.

"Heh, that 'dragon looking thing' was Sssir Holier-Than-Thou's wyvern. Rhea must have sent him to find you." He scoffed. "As if _I_ couldn't do it myself. Looks like I beat him to it." He lurched to the side, losing his balance. Elspeth jumped the rocks to help steady him, propping him up against them when he fell.

"State of ye'." She tutted, kneeling down to his level. His breath stunk of ale. "You often drink when yer on a job?"

Jeralt waved her off with a hand. "Damn, when did you become my mother?" He groaned, rubbing his wrinkled forehead. "I was angry, alright? Besides, I already ssstarted drinking before the whole...-" he puffed out his cheeks, deflating them with an exhale, "-_fiasco_. I can still fight a few no-good bandits even when the world is spinning." His face scrunched up. "_Is_ the world spinning?"

Elspeth sighed through her nose. "The Cap'n of the Knights of Seiros a drunk," she muttered. It didn't surprise her, though- not with all he must have seen as a knight. They sat in silence a while, listening to the soft trickle of water and watching the clouds hover and spread along the sky like long ghostly fingers. Jeralt shared with her a slab of hard cheese and a hunk of bread he'd kept in a pouch attached to his saddle, while muttering about wishing he had brought a second skin to wash it all down. There was no sign of the wyvern or its rider, only a hawk or two that would pass overhead with a piercing screech. Sometimes they would circle round in a glide, beady eyes searching for small rodent prey. One dove down, pointed like an arrow, its brown feathers rustling as it extended its talons and snatched an unsuspecting mouse from a bramble bush. Elspeth tapped a finger on her knee, twisting her neck to look at Jeralt. "C'mon, we should get going."

He rested his chin on his shoulder, confusion in his eyes. "Up or down?"

She lowered her eyes, scraping the floor with the toe of her shoe. "Not sure I'd be welcome back there. Can't leave Aethel, though..." She paused, uncertain. "D'ye think they'll send me away? Seteth an' Lady Rhea?"

Jeralt offered a gentle smile. "Of course not." He took her hand in his, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. "I won't let them. Don't sweat it, kid."

Elspeth returned his smile, a warm feeling buzzing in her gut. "Get up then, yae old tippler." She stood, heaving him up with her. Jeralt stumbled to his feet, swaying over to where his horse waited. It grunted when he grabbed onto its rear for balance, swatting him with its tail. Elspeth held him steady with a hand on his back. A familiar, rhythmic sound came from the path up the mountain. _Horses_. Four or five, at a guess. "Can ye hear that, Cap'n?" she hissed, jutting her chin toward the hill.

He pursed his lips, listening, then curved them into a smile. "That'll be my son finally caught up to us." He raised a brow. "Or bandits."

She gave his arm a light shove. "Don't say that." Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of her dearest companion darting down the hill. "Aethel?" she tried to shout, but the word came out a whisper. His ears pricked up regardless, his jog turning to a run. She sprinted to meet him without a second thought, beaming from ear to ear. Aethel pounced onto her, knocking her flat against the jagged bed of stones. Despite the pain that shot down her spine, a laugh escaped her as she hugged him tight. Her smile faded. Around his snout was a black muzzle, a single hole at the end for his nose to poke through. "What's this, boy?" She ghosted her fingers along the leather.

"Forgive me, Elspeth. I hope you can understand why it is necessary," said Byleth from above her. She had not noticed him approach, much less dismount.

A girl appeared at his side, her hair the shade of fallen snow and eyes like lavender. Elspeth sat up, pushing Aethel off as she peered at the strange faces around her, feeling rather timid. They looked no older than her, save for most of the knights to the back. She recognised one of the horses as the chestnut she had stolen, ridden by a boy with a swoop of orange hair. "This is her, then," the girl said. She addressed Elspeth. "You do not look injured. We feared the worst when we found your blood soaked ribbon."

"My ribbon...?" Elspeth raised a hand to the back of her head, broken nails scratching against the fresh scab along her scalp. "Oh. Fell from my horse, sorry," she recalled.

"Well, I am glad you are safe. As is your kitsune, it appears." The girl smiled politely, offering a gloved hand. Elspeth took it and pulled herself to her feet. "I am Edelgard."

"Elspeth. Though I s'pose you already knew that..." Elspeth trailed off, heat rising in her cheeks.

Byleth crossed his arms and stepped closer, eyes fixed behind her. "Thank you for taking care of my father. It seems I failed to hide his liquor." His brow creased. "Where is Seteth?"

Elspeth shrugged. "Not seen 'im. Well, guess I did... He flew over a while ago. Not since, though."

"So he went on alone, after all," Edelgard said. "In that case, we must hurry. If the bandits catch wind of our approach and escape, it could be months before we locate them again."

"Right you are, Edelgard. Remount at once." Byleth aided Edelgard into the saddle of a silver mare, then turned back to Elspeth. "I suppose you will have to ride with my father. No doubt he's too drunk to ride straight." His voice rose toward the end, laced with subtle ire.

"Back to the monastery? I'm not sure I'm cut out for fightin' bandits, Professor," she said. The sword felt heavy against her back- the weight of her burden, of the lives she set out to avenge.

"If you turn your back now, you will regret that decision for as long as you live. It will never feel like justice has been served unless you witness it yourself." Byleth squeezed her shoulder. "Keep close to me- I swear to protect you."

"What about the Cap'n- your da?" Elspeth peered behind her to see Jeralt failing to mount his garron.

Byleth's eyes narrowed to a glare. "Don't worry about him. A fight will sober him up- it always has before." He strode over to push his father's rear onto the garron. Jeralt swayed in the saddle, a grin on his face. On his return, Byleth said, "Try to make sure he doesn't embarrass himself further, please."

Elspeth only nodded as he passed. She gave Aethel a pat and walked over to the honeyed garron, lifting herself to the front of the saddle with ease. It felt sturdier than the mare, and easier to ride. The saddle helped too, she supposed. Jeralt wobbled behind her and, without a word, she reached back and pulled his arms around her gut.

"Woah, kid, I'm a bit old for you, don't you think?"

"Shut up, it's so ye don't fall off." Elspeth wanted to slap him for even suggesting the thought, but restrained herself and kicked the horse into a trot to join the others already leaving. "And I ain't a kid," she added in exasperation.

"Yes, ma'am," Jeralt teased.

She kept to the rear of the group as they descended further, Aethel scampering alongside. To her right rode the boy who had taken her chestnut, his hair bobbing like a float in water. _It wasn't yours. You stole it,_ she reminded herself. Every so often he would glance in her direction and flash a pearly grin, or attempt to engage conversation in which she would pretend not to hear. He only reminded her of Sylvain, and how he must now hate her for what happened to Felix. Of the grief she left behind. Felix could be dead for all she knew, his friends mourning whilst she embarked on her own selfish whims. She sighed, straining to focus on the conversation from the students, but their voices could not be heard over the clanking of armour. Jeralt named each of them for her, and who to avoid. One of which being a boy named Caspar, who he was sure she would fight with. Elspeth was inclined to disagree, but changed her mind once she saw the boy try to knock his companion from their horse. There was one student the captain left out- a man to the front who interested her most, striking atop his ebony gelding. He kept close to the professor and Edelgard, watching them like the hawk watched its mouse.

"Who's he?" Elspeth asked Jeralt, eyes enchanted by the dark haired man.

Jeralt shifted against her. "What, Hubert?" He snorted. "Don't get involved with him, kiddo- ah, _Elspeth_, sorry- not unless you want the constant feeling of someone watching you. Guy even gives _me_ the creeps. Trust me."

Hubert glanced round as if he had heard, his pointed stare sending a chill through her bones. She gulped, tearing her eyes away, the spell broken. "Um, maybe you were right, Cap'n." Perhaps she was better suited with the Lion house.

Jeralt chuckled, ending with a hiccup. "I didn't peg you as liking the dark and scary type. Thought you'd be into guys like _Prince Charming_ over there."

Elspeth tutted, casting a glance in Ferdinand's direction. He _was_ prince-like, she had to admit. "I only found 'im interestin', is all."

The captain jabbed her hard in the back. "If you say so."

The others began to slow to a stop. The canyon was just ahead, though it did not look how she expected. It was not red, for one, as its name implied. Byleth dismounted, the others soon doing the same, and so Elspeth followed their lead. Aethel came to sniff at her leg as she helped heave Jeralt from the saddle. She took a deep breath, only just realising the reality of what was about to happen. Jeralt looked to have regained his sense of balance, no longer wobbling on the spot. Byleth beckoned them over after tying the reins of his horse to a dying tree, a commanding look on his face. A high-pitched shriek came from the skies, followed by the beating of wings. The world darkened. Elspeth spun round and fell to her knees as the wyvern swooped overhead, a gust of wind billowing her hair into her face. Aethel snarled, purple-tipped white fur bristling.

"It's alright, Aethel," she said shakily, stroking a hand down his body. He sat and whimpered, sniffing the air. The wyvern latched onto a cliff edge and rotated to face them, its scaly barbed tail drooping over the edge. They watched as Seteth dropped from its back, landing with grace. In place of his usual garb he wore a polished white breastplate and greaves, with cuisses and gauntlets to match. Elspeth suddenly felt severely underequipped, noticing that everyone else at least had _some _form of protection, whereas she had none.

"Professor!" Seteth called down as he found his way down a slope to meet them. His eyes scanned the group, until they settled on Elspeth. For a moment, she was sure his features softened, until the crease between his brows returned and he addressed Byleth once more. "Forgive me for going on ahead. I had a theory to test."

Byleth crossed his arms. "A theory?"

"I found it odd, you see, that the bandits would reside here so long. Why, it is no more than a ruin, and so close to the monastery." He paused. "I scouted ahead- discreetly, of course- and found that these men have already set up defences."

"Perhaps they saw the very discreet wyvern flying around," a tired looking boy offered, whose name she did not recall.

Seteth raised a brow, but Byleth spoke before he could retort. "You're saying they knew we were coming?"

"Indeed. They have been awaiting our arrival for some time."

"How many?" Edelgard asked, composure calm.

"Fifteen, twenty, perhaps more. More may be hiding within the ruins." Seteth stroked his shapely beard, resting his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Byleth nodded, features twisted in thought. "Very well. We will keep a tight formation, a group to the north and one to the west. Choke them, lure out their leader and strike him down."

A brunette girl breathed a nervous laugh. _Dorothea_, Elspeth remembered.

"Professor, do you really think it wise for us to split up? This is our first real fight."

"I have full confidence in your abilities, Dorothea. And all of you. You would do well to find that same confidence in yourselves. Do as I have taught you and we will be back at the monastery for lunch." His words roused a buzz from his students. Caspar seemed most enthusiastic.

They split into two groups as instructed, Byleth the head of one and Edelgard the other. Five knights were assigned to each- to lead the first charge. Elspeth glued herself to the professor's side, afraid he would go on without her. She clutched the necklace beneath her tunic, imagining her father was there to guide her. _A knight's resolve,_ Byleth had said to her. She only hoped it was true. Aethel sensed her hesitation, pawing at her leg. "Don't get hurt," she told him, as if the words were a spell that could ward him from harm. Elspeth had asked to remove his muzzle, but Seteth refused. In case Aethel got confused and turned on a student, he'd said. After Felix, it was perhaps for the best. The knights took position in a half circle at the base of the stairs up to the bandit camp.

It was time.

Shields up and spears pointed, they charged upward. Once at the top the knights fanned outward, awaiting command. _A human shield._ Elspeth pulled out her sword as Byleth led his students onto the field of battle. No attacks came. They were out in the open, sitting ducks for any archers. Ruins of what looked to have once been a village were all around- the perfect hiding places. A horn blew in the distance, long and low. A signal. _Or a warning. _

Then they were on them.

Men from all sides, clashing with the wall of knights. Byleth yelled something she could not hear over the clanging of steel as the knights pushed forward, impenetrable. A piercing cry rang through the air, Seteth's wyvern swooping down to crush a man's skull between its claws. A flurry of arrows surged toward them, but Seteth skillfully steered away. The sight of the winged beast caused some men to retreat, but those who persisted tried to find gaps in their defence. A wave of miasma broke the line of knights apart. Jeralt lunged to strike a man down, protecting Edelgard from another. Aethel skirted the edges, picking off any weakened men. More miasma- this time from their side. Edelgard led the western charge once the bulk of enemies were defeated, Hubert close on her heel. Petra and... _Linhardt, _was his name,rushed to aid them.

Elspeth swung round, desperately searching for the teal of Byleth's hair amidst the chaos. The air smelled of blood, of sweat and iron. Dorothea cast a fireball, launching it through the air where it scorched a hard-faced man. He fell screaming, the flames consuming him. A grunt sounded behind her, the swoosh of a blade through air. She pivoted on her heel and met the sword with her own, the clang ringing in her ears as she struggled to push back against the bald-headed man's weight. A brief smirk crossed his lips, and then his eyes flicked to his right, fear dilating his pupils. A blur of white hurled him to the ground as Elspeth stumbled forward, her sword swiping the empty air where he once stood. She glanced sideward to see Aethel tearing his claws through the man's flesh, snarling, the muzzle preventing his fangs from ripping through his throat. Elspeth could only stand and stare, eyes wide with terror, the man's screams piercing her ears. She did not notice him pull out the dagger at his waist until it was too late. He managed to roll from under Aethel's weight, slashing the blade across his legs. Aethel yelped, retreating with a limp, blood seeping from the gashes.

Elspeth broke from her mind fog, fury surging through her veins as she lunged forward with sword outstretched. The sword tore through the man's already shredded chest before he could react, and she watched as the life left his eyes. His body slumped to the floor, taking her sword with him. She cried out as she yanked it from his chest, her own heaving. Thick blood poured from the gaping wound. The blade fell from her hands, knees threatening to buckle beneath her, bile rising up her throat. She swallowed it down. He did not look as they had looked in her dream- his eyes did not burn like fire, and his legs were not disjointed nor broken. _He's just a man..._ The scream of her name brought her back from her thoughts. She glanced in the direction it came from, to be greeted by a surge of miasma five feet away. It was too late to move.

Time seemed to stop, the world slowing around her, and then...

Her blade fell from her hands, knees shaking. A voice screamed her name before she had time to reflect. She looked toward the source to see Byleth sprinting for a robed mage casting a miasma spell. Aimed for her. Instinct kicked in. She leapt to hide behind the broken ruin of what was once a wall, whistling for Aethel. He limped over to her, wounded knees toppling before he collapsed just short of safety. "Ae-Aethel," she croaked, crawling over to him. The world fell silent, and she realised no miasma came. _Byleth_. Though where he was now, she could not say. Jeralt found her curled around the kitsune, holding him close. A tear ran down her cheek. "He... he's hurt, Cap'n." She looked up from beneath matted hair.

Jeralt ran a hand over his blood-splattered face, chest heaving. "Stay here, okay? I'll find Linhardt." His shoulders slumped, guilt in his eyes. "I won't be long. I promise."

Elspeth sat up, vision blurred with tears. "Jeralt, I _killed_ a man. I..." His lifeless face burned in her mind. "Please, don't go..." she whimpered. She had thought justice would feel liberating, but instead it tasted bitter.

Jeralt sighed and sheathed his sword, lowering to her level. "I know. But Aethel needs a healer before the wounds have time to infect." He squeezed her shoulder with a calloused hand. "The fighting looks to be almost over. You'll be safe here."

_Safe. Nowhere is safe_. Not while there still needed to be knights. Wings beat nearby, Seteth's wyvern quaking the earth as it landed. Jeralt's face lit up with relief. "Seteth, over here!" he shouted, waving an arm.

"Captain?" Seteth dismounted and rushed over, concern replacing his usual frown. His once pristine breastplate was smeared with red.

"How many left?" Jeralt stood, brushing dust from his slacks.

"None. Their leader fell to the princess, Edelgard."

Jeralt released a shaky breath. "That's a relief. Any losses on our end?"

"One, I'm afraid. Young, too- barely a man. His name was Walter." Seteth fell silent a moment- out of respect, Elspeth thought. "May his soul now find rest with the Goddess. He died in her name." Seteth looked to Elspeth. "You may rest easy now, child. Justice has been served for those of your village." He knelt, gloved fingers stroking through Aethel's fur, clumped with drying blood. Elspeth regarded him with caution. "I am sorry for all that came to pass. His wounds do not look too severe- magic should patch him up just fine." He offered a reassuring smile, and Elspeth briefly wondered what he had done with the _real_ Seteth.

"It's over, then?" she asked despite already knowing the answer.

Seteth nodded, and still she felt nothing. No sense of victory, not even a slight ease. Only emptiness, as she had felt the night of the attack. Their deaths would not bring back those who had died- only add to them. "Come. I will carry the kitsune, if you like," Seteth offered.

Elspeth did not understand his change of heart, but Aethel needed mending. She wiped her eyes with a dusty sleeve and agreed meekly. Seteth bundled a limp Aethel into his arms and, with the help of Jeralt, rose to his feet. They left with the wyvern, the ground trembling with each stride it took.

"Elspeth?" Edelgard seemed to appear from nowhere, Hubert at her heel like a leashed dog. "Your blood?" she asked, indicating the pool of red with a nod.

"Aethel's." She somehow found the strength to stand, eyes still watching the congealing blood seep into the cracks of the floor. "What will you do with them?"

"Their bodies?" Hubert inquired, the dark tendrils of hair over his eye shifting in the wind. When she nodded, he continued, "They do not deserve a burial. Let the vultures feast on their flesh. Their bones will deter any other vermin seeking to loiter here."

"Hubert," Edelgard warned, "the poor girl's shaken enough as it is. The knights will build a pyre and have the bodies burned. It is all we can do." She pursed her lips and paused, averting her gaze. "Elspeth, there is something I must tell you." Her eyes flicked back, vibrant in the light.

Elspeth did not speak.

Edelgard looked conflicted, as if debating whether to abandon the thought. She cleared her throat, fingers flexing. "The bandits we slayed today were not the ones who attacked your village."

Elspeth inhaled sharply, taken aback. "How... How do you know that?"

Something flashed across the princess's face. _Regret_, perhaps. "How I know does not matter. Just trust that my words are true." She forced a smile. "Now come. The others will begin to fret."

* * *

**_A/N~ It's rewind time, bois gals. Apologies for the delay- an old friend called Writer's Block came for a visit and I couldn't seem to shoo 'em back out the door. Lord save me writing that fight scene- almost lost my sanity. Sorry if it sucks. I tried. Also R.I.P Walter, we barely knew ye._**

**In**** the next chapter, Elspeth visits Felix and meets a prince. Seteth reveals a secret lost to history. Thanks for reading!** **P.s Someone tell this site to stop messing up my format T-T**


	7. A Story of Saints

**Chapter 7**

**_A Story of Saints_**

Sleep came no easier than it had the previous nights. Elspeth's dreams were still tormented by the dead, faceless now, their features long since blurred from her memory. They would always start the same; in Delaryn, moments before the attack, and then the fire would erupt around her. Sometimes she would take up arms, others she would not; but no matter which path she chose, she would die. And then the dreams- _nightmares_\- would shift to the canyon, where she would face the man whose life had been snubbed by her own hand. Him she could see clear as blood on snow. Every line, every twitch of his lips, and the fear that had replaced the smirk when Aethel struck him. And as her sword plunged through his chest, over and over, a question rang out in the corners of her mind. A whisper on the wind, an echo stretched across countless miles; _If not him, then who?_

After his body slumped to the ground, a darkness would consume her- blinding and endless, with no sound, no _feeling_. Nothing. The miasma spell, as if it was supposed to reach her. As if her life was meant to end that day. _A blessing it would have been, _a voice would call out to her- _to leave behind the heartache of your past, and reunite with your mother_.

_I can't_, she would reply, _not yet, not yet..._ Then, in the dream, she found herself in an empty village so familiar and yet so foreign, homely yet strange. She did not know why it felt so. A light appeared before her, a ball of white that pulsed as if it were living. Breathing. At its core, a symbol she did not recognise rippled like a pool of gold. It spoke to her. _"You make the right choice,"_ said the light, its voice not like a voice at all; instead it was the drumming of rain on a shuttered window, the tinkle of bells and the crashing of thunder all at once. As the light pulsed it shifted colours; enamel white to translucent blue, topaz to azalea pink- but its core remained the same lustrous gold. "_Soon you must come to me, small one. Come to this place, and here you shall remember."_

Elspeth did not understand. "Remember what? Who are ye?" _And why am I talkin' to a ball'a light...?_ A thought struck her. "Are ye... the Goddess?"

The light chuckled, if the sound it made could be described as such. "_That you will know in time. For now, you must beware this place you have made home. Darkness lingers there- treacherous schemes and twisted illusions. I will send you a signal when it is time, many moons from now. White wings and a crimson flower. Remember, small one."_

Elspeth wanted to laugh. "You what? I'm jus' dreamin'. You ain't real." She pinched herself, and felt nothing. When she waved her hand in front of her, it blurred at the edges like a mirage. _See, not real._

"_A dream this is, yes,"_ answered the light, "_and a dream this is not. I am here, but you are not. Now go, small one. Our time is no more, and yet our time is eternal. White wings, crimson flower. Remember."_ The light began to fade, its pulsing slowing.

"Wait!" she cried. It could not offer her riddles and then just _leave_ her.

_"I cannot_." The light's voice was distorted as if underwater, the village around them fading to darkness with it. "_They search for me. Hunt me. Heed my words, small one. You must wake now, as I have awoken. White wings, crimson flower..." _

_Who? Who searches for you?_ she tried to shout, but no sound would come out.

When she woke it was still dark, though her room was always dark- even during the day. _White wings, crimson flower_... She shook her weary head and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, curling her toes as she stretched. The dream made no sense to her. _That's why it's a dream, stupid_, she told herself. Yet it had left her with an ominous sense of foreboding all the same, a fear she did not understand. The light warned her about the monastery, too, she recalled. _Schemes and illusions_... She sighed, fingers searching the sheet for the soft fur of Aethel. When they found him, she gently combed through the tangles of his coat, light enough for him not to notice.

His wounded legs were mostly healed, thanks to Linhardt's basic healing spell, but the blade had cut through the muscle and bone. Any deeper, and the limb may have been lost. Despite having been healed by magic, Aethel's leg still needed time to mend itself. Most white magic could only close the wound, Flayn had told her, but there were those who could mend even severed limbs. It had been three days since they had returned, and would be another four before he could run again. Most of that time he had spent curled up on the bed, only waking at the scent of meat or whenever his bladder called. Elspeth was glad he was still alive- losing him would have shattered her soul.

Her eyes began to adjust to the dark, the outline of her hand visible when she brought it to her face. It was too late to go back to sleep, so she silently unfolded herself from the woollen blanket and swung her legs over the edge. She crept toward the door, avoiding the weak points where the wooden floor creaked, and left her room behind- kitsune none-the-wiser.

The warmth of the burning torches welcomed her bare arms and legs, yawning up the skirt of her white laced nightdress. It was a spare given to her by Flayn, though it was far too small and barely reached her knees, but she was thankful for it all the same. Besides, the Garland Moon was but a few nights away, when such thin nightwear would become a blessing.

Elspeth forced a smile in greeting to the knight stationed outside of her room and padded down the corridor of the servants' quarters, following wherever her feet took her. The stone was cold despite the warmth, and nipped at her bare toes as she turned the torchlit corners, her mind blank. Voices came from nearby, muffled behind the great oaken doors of the audience chamber. There were no knights in sight. Curious, Elspeth went onto tiptoes and pressed her ear against the solid wood, straining to hear. "...next month, yes," one said, though their voice was so soft she could barely hear.

"What of... rebellion?" said another, undeniably Seteth's voice.

"...be dealt with," the other replied.

"What are you doing?" a boy's voice startled her from behind.

Elspeth spun to face him, her eyes wide. "N-nothin'!" she lied, trying to think up an excuse. "Was jus' passin' by. Wasn't doin' nothin." She stood straight and crossed her arms, feigning confidence. "What're you doin' here?" Her voice was a whisper, afraid Seteth would hear and scold her again.

"Nothing, you say." The boy chuckled softly. "If that is the case, then I too am here for nothing."

She blinked at him, wishing she could disappear into the shadows. The boy was at least a foot taller than her, with golden hair that flopped messily over his forehead, and thin brows set upon gentle eyes. Torchlight flickered across his slim face, the shadows dancing with the orange light along his narrow features. "I was tellin' the truth," she whispered. "Couldn't hear nowt, anyways."

He considered her a moment, thin lips curving up at the edge. "I see. I was headed to the infirmary to visit Felix. Would you care to join me?"

Elspeth's heart sank. The infirmary was the one place she had avoided like a contagion ever since returning, the guilt too strong to face Felix. It was her fault he ended up the way he did- her fault that she had panicked and could not stop whatever had possessed Aethel. "Um..." she mumbled, gaze falling to the floor.

The boy placed a fair hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. I know who you are."

Her eyes flicked back up to him and narrowed. "Lemme guess; it's the hair."

He chuckled. "Yes, the hair. Sylvain spoke of you fondly..." His face turned grim.

"What is it?"

"Ah, nothing." He took a step back. "Come on, then, before the Archbishop finds us here and lectures us back to our beds." The boy retreated a few paces, turning with a frown when she did not follow. "If you think that he hates you, then you are mistaken. Felix may act... arrogant, at times, but he knows you are not at fault."

Elspeth shook her head firmly. "How can he blame no one but me? Was my kitsune almost killed 'im."

The boy sighed, shoulders tense. "There is something you may wish to know, but not here. Come quickly."

_No_, she wanted to scream. _No, no, no._ She had had enough of secrecy and riddles for one night. _I should'a stayed in bed, and curled up with Aethel an' waited for mornin'._ But despite her inner stubbornness, her legs moved to follow him. Dread hung over her.

Inside the infirmary lay Felix in the bed closest to the window, his chest bound in gauze and bandages. Every part of her wanted to flee, and yet she continued her approach, as if some invisible force was pushing her on. At the foot of Felix's bed sat Sylvain, slumped over with closed eyes. They fluttered open when the boy nudged him awake. "Dimitri...?" Sylvain stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, stretching up with the other. His hair was messier than usual, sticking up in all directions, and his face looked tired. When his eyes found Elspeth, he stiffened. "Why's _she_ here?"

"Leave her be, Sylvain. She has as much right to be here as you do." Dimitri beckoned her over with a tilt of his head.

She edged closer, avoiding Sylvain's glare. "I'm sorry..." she heard herself say.

Sylvain scoffed. "Save it for Felix."

She wanted to weep, to run back to Aethel and lock herself within her room. But she was tired of running. Dimitri ran a hand over his face, pulling over a chair to sit. Elspeth sat on the empty bed adjacent to Felix's, stretching the fabric of her gown over her knees. "You still blame her, even after what we discovered?" said Dimitri, sounding exhausted.

"You didn't _discover_ anything. All you have is some theory- a conspiracy."

Elspeth's brow furrowed. "Discovered what?"

Dimitri glanced at the doorway, voice low. "The door to your room was unscathed. How could that be the case if your beast broke free? It should at the very least have been scratched."

She mulled over his words, trying to cast her mind back to the events of that night. "Maybe I left the door unlocked?" she offered. No- she was sure that was not the case. But she was too tired to speculate, and her head still hurt from her dream.

"Even so, the door opens inward, not out. Your beast would have to claw at the edges to wedge it free."

It was true. "Are ye sure the knights didn't just replace the door?"

Sylvain reclined in his chair, arms crossed. "Why are we going over this again, Dimitri? Even if your fantasy is true, the creature still mauled Felix. He could've _died_."

Elspeth looked to Felix, his hair loose and cascading in purple ribbons of satin about his shoulders. His expression was one of peace, and he looked almost a different person without the crease in his brow. "I don't know why Aethel did it. He's nay hurt a soul before..."

"But he did. And this is the result."

By some saving grace, Felix groaned awake, ending their discussion. "The hell are you all looking at?" The crease returned to his brow, and his voice was hoarse. Sylvain offered him water, but Felix turned away. "No dream powder. I'm tired of sleeping."

"It's just water." Sylvain thrust the glass to Felix's lips, forcing him to take a sip.

Felix shifted to sit up, grimacing. "What are you doing here, boar? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"I am glad injury has not dulled you, friend," said Dimitri. "Do you still refuse white magic?"

"Magic is for cowards, and I'm far from death. Besides, perhaps the wounds will scar. Who else can say they bear the scars from a kitsune?" He smirked, exhaling a pained sigh. "Water." He waved a hand at Sylvain.

"I'm not your servant," Sylvain grumbled, but complied. Felix ignored him, taking long sips from the glass.

Elspeth cleared her throat. "How are ye? Apart from, you know..."

Felix shoved the glass back at Sylvain and looked to her, an odd look in his eyes. "I'll live, if that's what you're worried about. Manuela says these rags can come off soon. Good thing, too. I miss having a sword in my hand and a fight in my veins."

Sylvain crossed his arms. "You could be up fighting already, but you won't let anyone heal you."

"Next time I'll allow it, if only to shut you up." Felix exaggerated a yawn, closing his eyes. "I think I feel another nap coming on. You may all go now. I bore of you." When they did not move, he opened an eye and groaned. "Go. I'll still be here come morning."

And so they left him in peace, though Sylvain was reluctant, lingering at the bedside. He ignored Elspeth's goodbye, and did not so much as glance in her direction when she and Dimitri retreated to the hall. In the view of the audience chamber she bid Dimitri goodnight, then made her way back to where her sleeping companion waited.

That morning it was not Flayn who came to wake her, but Seteth. With breakfast, as an apology. Elspeth was to join him in morning prayer, as a chance for them to see past their differences and find common ground under the eyes of the Goddess. When he realised she was not yet dressed, he left the tray of breads, roasted ham and the pitcher of milk atop her worn shelf and excused himself. Whilst he waited, Elspeth ate the bread in silence, sharing the ham and milk with Aethel, his eyes still droopy with sleep.

Once she was fed she dressed quickly into her slacks, tying her hair with a yellow ribbon of velvet. The clothes itched, but they were all she had. If she had money, she would buy new ones of good quality; a soft green tunic, perhaps, or a summer dress of turquoise cotton. There were some in the market that had caught her eye, but she had refused Flayn's offers to buy her one. _I could get a job down in the market, help out the baker's boy or somethin', _she pondered._ Then I could buy clothes for me an' Flayn both, and treats for Aethel._

Baking was a skill her mother had taught her, though it had been so long since she had baked that she was not sure she still knew how. Aethel's whining brought her back from her daydreams. She attached his muzzle to his snout and hooped his leash over his head. He was long overdue a walk, and so she had decided to bring him along- whether Seteth liked it or not. "Ye look like a dog, boy," she muttered at the sight of him. He whined in disapproval. As she walked him to the door she said, "Don't worry, Aethel. They'll see soon enough how good ye are, jus' you wait."

Elspeth walked with Seteth to the cathedral, Aethel padding slowly between them. Students eyed her with suspicion as they passed, skirting round her like skittish deer. One dropped her leaning stack of books- a girl with a nest of purple hair- and ran screaming prayers of some sort, and that she "_should have stayed in my room!"_ It saddened her, that they did not see Aethel as she did. A Riegan Tabby watched them through bright glossy eyes, fur bristling along its back. When Aethel tried to sniff it hello, it darted away with a fearful yowl. Seteth also looked tense, glancing downward every few paces, though he had not objected to his company. _A start, at least._ As they crossed the bride of stone, he spoke. "You left your room last night. Why?"

"Visited Felix," was her reply. He nodded once, and said no more.

The pews within the cathedral were occupied by many; both young and old, student and knight, servants and priests. Elspeth glanced at the faces as she passed, wondering what silent prayers they offered to the Goddess. Good health, she supposed, for those they loved. Safety or fortune; forgiveness, even. Some shuffled further down their pew at the approach of Aethel, others closed their eyes and muttered frantic prayers. _Prayin' for him to disappear intae dust_, she thought angrily. Seteth led her round to the saint statues, raising a finger to his lips. He used it to brush specks of dust from Saint Macuil's robes, looking up at his golden features. "You know of the saints?" he asked, voice low.

"Only their names. Flayn told me 'em," Elspeth whispered back. Aethel lay against her leg to rest his own, head between his large paws. Though she knew little of the saints, their characters were easy enough to decipher. Macuil was draped in robes of gold and wielded a thin staff, and wore a pointed hat atop his head of gold. In his other hand he rested upon the pommel of a sword, the blade dulled to a burnished gold. _A mage,_ she decided. Indech wielded a bow, drawn back as if to fire, frozen in permanent stasis. He donned plated armour, and his matching helmet had no visor. _A hunter... No, a soldier._

Seteth looked down at her, smiling. "They are the founders of the seven noble bloodlines, and the original holders of Crests. During the War of Heroes, they fought valiantly alongside the Ten Elites to defeat the Fell King. Do you wish to know more?"

Elspeth peered up at Saint Indech's unblinking eyes, a focused expression forever etched into his features. The saints did interest her, but she was afraid to appear too eager lest Seteth lecture her for hours on end. "Was Saint Indech a soldier?" she settled with.

Seteth chuckled softly. "Ah, so it is Saint Indech who interests you most? I suppose you could say so. He was a great warrior. It is believed his skill with a bow was unparalleled... or so the stories say." He observed her a moment, a curious look in his verdant eyes. "I see a little of him in you, actually. He was fearless- and bold, too."

_Fearless_... Elspeth was sure that was not true of her, but did not argue. "Which is your favourite?" she asked, resuming her examination of the statue.

"I have always held a certain fondness for Saint Cethleann."

A smile curved her lips. "Flayn's favourite, too." Elspeth walked over to Cethleann, scanning the jumble of letters etched into the plaque at her feet. Words she could not read. She frowned.

Seteth recited the tale of Cethleann; of her kindness, and how she was the daughter of Saint Cichol. A woman worthy of the title of Saint, he said- a beacon of hope amidst the turmoil of war. The more he talked, the more it all seemed a fairy tale; a story told to young children to lull them to sleep, of holy knights- the Ten Elites- and a great battle between the forces of light and dark. And yet, was the world she lived in not a fairy tale itself? Noble knights sworn to their kingdoms, and sorcerers who could pull from the ether and bend fire and darkness itself to their will. And Aethel, a being everyone seemed incredulous of, some ancient beast once a myth now brought to life, blessed with the power of the Goddess herself. _May it be,_ Elspeth wondered, _that the stories are true? _"What 'bout kitsunes?" she heard herself ask. "Did they fight in the war?" There were no statues of them within the monastery, no shrine to their name. If they truly were beings of the Goddess... where were they?

Seteth cast his eyes to the floor, a frown on his face. "They did not." His fingers fidgeted. She had never seen him so uneasy. He looked deep into her eyes, as if searching the depths of her very soul. "If I tell you this tale, you must swear to tell no one."

Elspeth nodded, nervous butterflies tickling her gut.

"You must swear it." His whisper was harsh.

"I swear." She pulled out the necklace from her tunic and held it out in her palm, curling her fingers round the warmth of it as she spoke. "I swear on the Goddess' name- on my ma's and my father's." _Would__ that I knew it. _

"Very well... I believe you have the right to know." He glanced around warily, pulling her closer to the wall by her elbow. "Long ago, a kitsune- the first of his kind- swore an oath to Saint Cichol, to aid him should he ever need it," he began, tone hushed. Elspeth had to keep deathly quiet to hear, afraid to even breathe. Seteth continued, "When the age of the War of Heroes arrived, Cichol called upon that oath, for him and his kin to take up arms against Nemesis. Alas, the kitsune and his kin were nowhere to be found. They had vanished from the face of the earth, abandoning both the oath and Saint Cichol's trust.

"As punishment, all knowledge of them was erased, their history reduced to fables. Only the highest members of the Church know of the truth. For many years kitsunes were believed to have perished- that is, until Aethel arrived at this very monastery." He paused, staring at Aethel asleep on the floor. "No sightings for centuries and yet here one is, alive and well. I tell you this because of him, because of your bond- one I cannot deny. He must have chosen you for a reason."

Elspeth mulled over his words. _There's others, then,_ she realised. _Aethel's family._ Somewhere out there, hidden from the world. "Who was he? The first kitsune?" The words came out a breath of air.

Seteth smiled, though it was sad. "His name was Ygdrun." He clasped his hands over hers. A shared prayer. "Now, child, let us pray. And speak not a word of what I told you."

* * *

**_A/N~ Thanks MonMinou for the review! A lot of stuff going on in this chapter but I tried to pace it slow enough for you all to soak it in. As for healing magic, I don't want it to be too overpowered so... it can close wounds but not do much else xD Anways, small update:_**

**_This story was going to go on hiatus for the holidays but now I'm not sure... So as of now it's kind of on a break but not really? Basically I won't be updating as regularly until the new year arrives.(not like I have been anyway wheee)_**

**_With that said, I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas/Hanukkah/etc. if I don't see you before then. And as ever, thank you all for reading/reviewing!_**

**In the next chapter, a revered Knight of Seiros arrives at the monastery.** **Edit: omg this site hates me lmao it puts spaces where there shouldn't be**


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